


The Angel and the Devil

by Always_Dreaming



Category: MotoGP RPF, Motorcycling RPF
Genre: M/M, Memory Loss, Secret Relationship, crashes, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-09-06 06:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 43,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8738851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Always_Dreaming/pseuds/Always_Dreaming
Summary: The secret and forbidden relationship between Luca Marini and Marc Marquez has been going on for a while, then Luca has a bad crash in Moto2. It shakes Marc up and sets off a chain of events, including feuds, more crashes and injuries, memory loss and lots of revelations...I've slightly altered the last chapter to put things in I forgot about or felt needed to be added.





	1. Crash

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DanisAngel26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanisAngel26/gifts), [F1_rabbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/F1_rabbit/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Moto2 crash makes secrets come out in MotoGP.

Marc strode into the Repsol garage to find Dani taking off his gloves and helmet. “What are you doing? I thought we had free practice in a minute?”

“The Moto2 race was red flagged due to a serious crash. So, there will be a delay.”

Marc tensed. “What crash? Who was it? Anyone hurt?”

“It was Oliveira and Marini. Oliveira was walking but Marini was unconscious.”

“Unconscious?” Marc’s stomach lurched and his brain went into overdrive. _I can’t text Luca if he’s unconscious, what if Vale picks up the phone? What if he’s seriously injured? How will I get to him if no one knows about us? What if he dies and I never see him again?_ “But he’s not…dead?”

“No, no. He’s just in hospital. What’s wrong? You’ve gone pale.”

“I haven’t, I just—” He swayed on his feet.

***

When he came to, he was sitting on a chair with Dani and Santi kneeling next to him. 

“What happened?” he asked.

Dani handed him a glass of water.

“You fainted,” said Santi, frowning. “Are you ill?”

“Maybe you haven’t got over your last crash yet,” said Dani, patting his leg.

“I’m fine. I just need to—” He stood up and pushed past his mystified colleagues.

***

He paced up and down in his trailer. _Who can I ask about Luca? There’s no one. But what about his team mate? Can I go to him and find out? What about his team? I can’t ask them, they’d be suspicious. Oh god, what am I going to do?_

Someone knocked at the door—he didn’t want to answer it so looked out of the window. Dani stood there and he sighed with relief—he needed someone to talk to, so he opened the door and dragged his team mate inside.

“What’s the matter? Santi and I are worried. You went all funny when you heard about the crash.”

Marc sighed. “If I tell you a secret, you must swear on your life not to tell anyone. Ever. If you do, I’ll kill you. Seriously, I’ll—”

“Alright, alright. I swear!” Dani raised his hands placatingly, his eyebrows almost in his hair. “What the hell have you done?”

“Right, okay. It’s me and Luca. We’re together.” He watched Dani’s reaction, which went from shock to anger to disbelief within a few seconds.

“WHAT? Luca _Marini_? You and Luca Marini? You and Rossi’s little brother are—you’re in a relationship? Please tell me you’re joking?”

“I’m not _joking_! So, I need to find out quickly what happened to him and what hospital he’s in and if I can see him and—”

“Hold on! You and _Luca Marini_? He’s your boyfriend and you want to visit him in hospital?”

“Yes! Are you deaf? That’s what I said!” Marc’s heart was pounding. “If you’ve ever been my friend, help me now!”

Dani paused, chewing his lip. “Alright. I’ll see what I can find out. I’ll ask Vale where he is.”

“But don’t tell him about me and Luca. I don’t care about me but if he takes it out on Luca, I’ll kill him! He could finish Luca’s career, you know how vindictive he is, he’s a—”

“Alright, Marc! Alright! I’ll sort it out. But—Jesus! You like living dangerously. Vale is more likely to hurt _you_ than Luca.”

“Oh thanks, Dani, you’re such a good friend, I knew I could rely on you.” He hugged Dani so tightly that the little Samurai gasped for breath.

***

Marc would be forever grateful to Dani for finding out which hospital Luca had been taken to. That evening he took a taxi there, hoping that Vale and parents would have gone home. He kept his hood up in case the taxi driver, or people who looked in the window at traffic lights, recognised him. It was so easy to get caught out by fans, they turned up in all sorts of places.

Luckily the taxi driver was a morose type and hardly said a word. He just listened to unending country and western music on the radio, which nearly sent Marc to sleep. At last, after travelling miles of dark streets hoping he wasn’t being taken on a wild goose chase, the big, bright hospital loomed into sight and he leapt out of the car.

“Can you tell me what room Luca Marini is in, please?” He smiled as disarmingly as he could at the middle-aged woman sitting behind the tall reception desk. The intense lights of the hospital were harsh after the darkness of the taxi ride and he screwed up his tired eyes to focus better.

“Are you family? He’s only seeing close family at the moment.”

“I’m a close friend, please can I see him? I’m so worried about him.” Marc made the face that Dani said made him look like a puppy.

“I’m sorry, its close family only. If you aren’t a family member, you can’t visit, I’m afraid.”

“Well can you at least tell me how he is? Please? I’m so worried, all I know is that he was in a terrible bike accident and was knocked unconscious. Is he conscious? Is he breathing by himself? Is he badly injured?”

The receptionist sighed. “Okay, wait a minute.” She clicked on her keyboard and read off the screen. “He’s conscious and talking but has a broken collarbone.”

“Oh my god.” Tears welled in Marc’s eyes, partly to try and make her sympathise with him but partly real. He slumped against the desk. “Please can I see him, just for a minute?”

She sighed again. It wasn’t a busy night, and this handsome young man looked so sad—he also looked familiar, where had she seen him before? Surely it wouldn’t hurt for him to see his friend for a minute? “Okay, it’s the Greenleaf suite on the top floor. Don’t get him overexcited or tire him out, will you?”

“I won’t. Thank you so much.” He beamed at her and she blushed.

At the door of the Greenleaf suite, Marc faced another interrogation, but this time it was a nurse who met him. He went through the same routine as he had with the receptionist, but the nurse was less co-operative. After spending twenty minutes trying to persuade her, he was starting to despair.

“I’m not leaving til I see him. I’ll sleep out here on the floor all night if I have to!” He raised his voice, trying to sound a bit threatening as well as appealing.

She gave him a considering look. “We can’t have that.” She paused, tapping her pen on the table. “What’s your name?”

“Marc. Marc Pandoro.” He couldn’t risk giving his real name—there was bound to be someone around who would recognise him, so he hoped Luca would remember the cake he liked.

“Very well, Mr—er—Pandoro.” She bustled off.

He exhaled with relief and slumped against the wall, but quickly stood up, trying not to catch anyone’s attention or do anything noticeable. He waited and waited. _Perhaps Luca’s asleep. Or he’s taken a turn for the worse. Or he’s been taken to intensive care. Or—Stop. I’m tired, I mustn’t let my imagination run away with me._

At last the nurse returned. “He’d like to see you, but I must accompany you, it’s the hospital policy.” She led him to Luca’s room, where he sat propped up in bed with his right arm and shoulder bandaged, and an IV drip attached to his hand. His face was even paler than usual but it lit up and his eyes sparkled when he saw his visitor.

“Marc!” he murmured, and smiled weakly. Marc flung himself down in the chair next to him, leant forward and hugged him as gently as possible.

“I thought you were dead,” he whispered against his cheek.

“Not me. I’m indestructible.” Luca relaxed, putting his left arm tightly round him. “Don’t worry.”

Marc looked into his arctic blue eyes, and kissed his soft lips. “Don’t worry? I was going mad with worry!” He kissed him again, talking between kisses. “I was terrified…what if you died…what if I…never saw you again?” 

“You are sentimental. But I like it.” He grinned and kissed Marc’s hair as he snuggled against the undamaged left shoulder. “How did you know where I was?”

The nurse cleared her throat, making both riders jump—they’d forgotten she was there. “Well, gentlemen, I can see you qualify as close friends and family. I’ll give you some privacy.”

“Thanks,” said Luca as she swished out of the room, then whispered into Marc’s hair, “get into bed with me, quick.”

Marc was already pulling his shoes and hoodie off. He cuddled up to Luca’s uninjured side and they kissed for a while. The bed was so narrow, however, and Luca so restricted by his shoulder and IV drip, that their position was too awkward and he had to stop to rest his neck.

“Can I stay here tonight?” asked Marc. “It’s so late, I don’t want to go.”

“That nurse winked at me so I bet she won’t throw you out.”

“Good.” He stroked Luca’s hair.

“I was worried too,” he said. “About how you’d feel when you heard about the crash.”

“Oh, well, I was shocked but I coped. I’m here now.”

“How did you know where to find me? You didn’t—ask Vale—did you?”

“Of course not. Sorry, I had to tell Dani about us. He noticed I was upset, so he asked Vale for me.”

“Right. So, Dani knows. Vale would disown me if he found out.” He shifted about awkwardly. “But we have another problem.”

“What? Am I hurting you? Did I—” Marc tried to wriggle away but Luca held him there.

“No, not that. When I came to, I said _Marc_ but Vale and Mama were there. I pretended I’d said _Mama_ and she accepted it but Vale didn’t. He had that suspicious expression, you know?”

“I know all his weird expressions. He’s onto us!”

“Maybe not. He might think I meant some other Marc.”

“He’s not stupid. I wish he was.” Marc held Luca’s hand. “What are we going to do?”

“We have to make a plan. We need allies. You already have Dani, but I’ll have to tell Balda, he’s my best friend.”

“ _Is he?_ ”

“Not like that. You’re going green.”

Marc laughed. “Marc smash Balda. Puny rider.”

“He can help us. He knows all my secrets.”

“Oh _does he_ …But anyway. We should have code names. I said Marc Pandoro to the nurse, but I must think of something better.”

Luca laughed now. “No, stay as Marc the cake. I’ll eat you.”

“Be serious. We need to do _something._ I couldn’t phone or text you when you were unconscious, what if Vale saw it? If one of us had a really bad crash, how would we contact each other?”

“I—I don’t know.” Luca bit his lip.

“I was lucky Dani helped me, but what would you do if _I_ had a bad crash?”

“I don’t want to think about that!”

“You have to. We’re riders, we get injured all the time. Who could _you_ ask for help?”

Neither of them were laughing anymore, just cuddling up. 

“I don’t know. Can I ask Dani too? He’s old and sensible, he can handle Vale.”

“Won’t it be suspicious if you go looking for Dani?” Marc thought aloud. “Unless you text him. You’d have to store his number under another name. God! This is hard.”

“I know, but we can’t let other people stop us.”

“But Vale would hit the roof if he found out. He might disown you, stop training you, finish your career. You’d be cast out like Fenati.”

“He’d never do that to me! He’s my brother. He’s more likely to do something to _you._ ”

“I don’t care about me, he can’t do anything worse to me than he’s already done.”

“But he and Uccio know people who could kill you and no one would ever find your body.”

“He’s not that crazy…Is he?”

“Maybe not, but he could sabotage your career. He’s already tried.”

“It didn’t work though! I’m not scared of him.”

“This is different. He might think you were using me to play mind games with him, and…” Luca shrugged.

Ice blue eyes met ebony ones.

“I’d never do that!” shouted Marc. “Ever!”

“Shhh! Do you want the nurses rushing in?”

This time, two sets of lips met for a long while.

“But we need a plan,” said Marc after that. “My heart won’t stand another shock like this.” 

Luca nodded.

“We can work it out. I’m the world champion and I never give up.”

“Neither do I.”

They stayed silent, cuddled up deep in thought. Keeping their secret was necessary, but if Vale found out, the whole thing would blow up in their faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I feel I must apologise for the lack of sex in this story. I have run out of sex scenes, I don't want to write them anymore. Luca and Marc have lots of sex in other stories, you will have to inspect those ;) :P


	2. Intermezzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its awkward seeing someone when you aren't even supposed to be speaking to them...
> 
> (I hope the Italian and Spanish phrases in this chapter make sense, I rely on Google Translate)

The next few months were torture for Marc and Luca. Because of Luca’s injury, he only occasionally went to races and hung round the paddock, so they were restricted to texting, maybe the odd call if Luca could escape from the VR46 riders and his brother at the ranch. Even if he did attend a race, he was surrounded by them, and Vale was always a shadow looming in the background.

At Jerez, however, Marc was walking to the bar with Dani to have a drink. His team mate was waffling on about something and he tuned out, thinking his own thoughts. It was hard to focus on racing when he wanted just the shortest bit of time with Luca. Even half an hour.

“Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” Dani tapped him on the arm, but he was smiling sympathetically at Marc.

“No. Sorry.”

They weren’t looking where they were going and nearly walked into some people.

“Sorry,” said Dani, then gasped. The people were Luca with his team mate and best friend, Lorenzo Baldassarri, both looking equally surprised.

“Marc!” said Luca. His arm and shoulder were just in a light sling now, not the heavy strapping he’d worn in hospital. He stood staring at Marc with his mouth open.

“Ah, Balda,” said Dani, quickly. “I wanted to talk to you. About that—er—that thing, remember, you know?”

Balda stared at him blankly, then the penny dropped. “Oh yes, that thing. The—er—tyre issue. Let’s go and discuss it.”

“Yes, the tyre issue.” Dani hurried away with the young Italian, leaving their team mates together.

“Come and look at this motorhome,” said Luca, grinning, “It’s an amazing design.” He hustled Marc into the alleyway between the vehicles.

They didn’t bother talking before they were kissing against the cold, rather damp wall of the trailer. The edge of something was poking into Marc’s back from the rigid metal structure but he didn’t care now he had his beloved with him again.

“I feel normal again,” he said after they stopped for breath. Luca’s warm body in his arms made everything fit into place in his world.

“Good, because you look terrible.” Luca grinned.

“Thanks!” Marc laughed and stroked his lover’s cheek. 

“Oh, I’ve missed hearing your witches’ cackle.”

“It’s your fault how I look anyway—waking me up in the night with your text demands.”

Luca laughed so dirtily that it made Marc laugh more and kiss him.

“When are you coming back to racing, _mi amor_?”

“The doctor says one more week, then I can be here with you in the paddock again.”

But someone knocked on the motorhome wall. “Sorry, Vale wants you,” said Balda, smiling regretfully at them.

“Damn him,” said Luca, his eyes dulling for a moment. He sighed. “Until next time, _il mio piccolo cioccolata calda_.”

Marc didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He knew enough Italian to know he had just been called _my little hot chocolate_ which made him happy, but spending only a brief few minutes with Luca made him sad.

“ _Mi angel rubio,_ ” he mumbled to himself. “How long will we have to be apart?”

***

However, they got lucky again after the Jerez race when they managed yet another sneaky snog behind the trailers. But after a few minutes someone interrupted, saying, “Marc, Alex wants you to—” then gasped.

Marc looked away from Luca and saw Jorge staring at them with his eyebrows drawn into a frown.

“What the—Marc, what the hell are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” he snapped.

“Er—yes, I know, but—that’s Rossi’s brother.”

“I know!! What do you want, Jorge?”

“Er—um—Alex asked me to tell you—he wants to meet you at his motorhome. Sorry, I’ll go.”

“Is he your bodyguard?” Luca laughed.

“No! I don’t need a bodyguard!”

“I shall be your bodyguard.” He hugged him more tightly.

“I’ll be yours too then,” said Marc in a rather muffled voice.

***

Later that evening, Jorge turned up on Marc’s doorstep.

“What’s going on, my friend?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? Why do you need to ask?”

“I’m just concerned, that’s all. Rossi will murder you if he finds out about you and his little brother.”

“I know, Jorge! You’re only the millionth person to tell me that!”

“Millionth? How many people know about this?”

“Well…just Dani and Balda. And you now.”

Jorge raised an eyebrow.

“I’m really, really tired of being sensible and repressing myself all the time! I want to live my life how I want, not worry about consequences all the time!”

They glared at each other, then the Majorcan said, “Well...I’m the last person to do what other people tell me to, but just watch out for Rossi. He will do anything to get his way. If he doesn’t want you to see Luca, he’ll find a way to stop you.”

“I’m not letting one person tell me how to live my life. If Rossi doesn’t like it, he can go fuck himself!” Marc stared at his friend, breathing fast, then flopped down on the sofa.

Jorge waited quietly for a moment to let him subside. “Are you going to get me a drink, or do I have to die of thirst? Very bad service around here.” He tutted and shook his head at him.

His host smiled reluctantly and trudged to the fridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dani and Balda’s conversation:
> 
> “So, our team mates,” began Dani, knowing there was no point avoiding the elephant in the room.
> 
> “Yes. They are in love. But it won’t turn out well.”
> 
> “Why not? It might.”
> 
> “Because of the Vale connection. He already suspects.”
> 
> “Does he? How do you know?”
> 
> Balda shrugged. “He has that look. He asks me questions about who Luca’s boyfriend is.”
> 
> “So, he knows Luca has a boyfriend.” Dani sighed.
> 
> “Yes. Maybe we need to make up a boyfriend for Luca. I would pretend to be him, but Vale knows I have girlfriends and besides, he’d expect us to be all loving in public and I couldn’t do that without laughing. And anyway, why would Luca be keeping ME secret? Vale knows it must be someone Luca thinks he will disapprove of.”
> 
> “What are we going to do about them, then?”
> 
> “I just don’t know. Be there when it all falls apart?”
> 
> “And hope it works out well for them.”
> 
> They shrugged at each other.
> 
> "Ah, there's my boss." Balda greeted him with a waved hand.
> 
> "Have you seen my brother?" said Vale impatiently. "I need to ask him about the-"
> 
> "I saw him by the hospitality area," interrupted Balda, and pointed far away from where Luca and Marc were, and Vale strode off in that direction.
> 
> "We better go and warn them," said Dani when the curly haired Italian was out of earshot. "Or, you go and if Vale comes back here, I'll distract him."


	3. Flashpoint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luca does something drastic and his brother rushes to use it against Marc.

Marc was riding his bike round the track, the wind rushing by, the engine growling, in and out of corners, along the straights like a whirlwind. But that noise wouldn’t go away, the strange music that was somehow familiar. Where was it coming from? Why couldn’t he switch it off?

He awoke with a jolt to realise it was his phone, ringing on and on, so he sleepily reached over to his bedside table and picked it up. 3.17 a.m. The name on the screen said ‘Accountant’ but that was his code for someone else.

“Luca, are you okay? It’s the middle of the night.”

Luca said in a choked voice, “I’m at the airport, I’ve run away because Vale found out about us and said I had to choose between him and you, so I chose you, I packed my bags and got a flight to Andorra and now I’m at the airport. Can you come and pick me up, I don’t know where to get a taxi, and I—”

“Wait, slow down.” Marc’s sleep-brain struggled to make sense of this. “You’re at the airport in Andorra?”

“YES! Of course, if you don’t want me, I’ll go and find somewhere else, or I’ll—”

“No! Stay right there! I’ll come and get you.” He jumped out of bed and grabbed some clothes, putting his phone on speaker so he could still talk to Luca.

“What are you doing now?”

“Putting my clothes on.” He grabbed his belt from the chair and fumbled to put it in his jeans’ belt hooks.

Luca laughed suggestively. “Makes a change.”

“It does. Now I’m going downstairs. Looking for my car keys…Found them.” He kept talking as he went downstairs to the integral garage—at this time of the morning he was very grateful that he could slip into his car, open the door automatically from there and close it behind him without getting out. Fans were everywhere—he did not want to deal with them right now. Nor journalists.

“I’m in the car now, starting the engine. Listen.”

“Doesn’t sound as good as your bike.” Luca’s voice was more normal now and Marc breathed a sigh of relief. Luckily the airport was nearby and it was small, so he wouldn’t have to search for him.

He talked intermittently to Luca while driving—about trivial things, nothing emotional. That could wait til they got home.

At the airport, he strode towards the Arrivals lounge. Sleepy travellers sat in groups, but where was Luca? Had Vale followed him and forced him to return to Italy? Marc’s heart pounded. 

Then Luca uncurled himself from the floor where he had been sitting against his suitcase, camouflaged by his dull grey t-shirt and jeans. He stood up and Marc’s heart flipped. He speeded up his pace and when he reached Luca he was enveloped in a hug.

Normally it annoyed him when tall people hugged him and rested their chin on his head, but it was different with Luca. They just fitted together perfectly and both exhaled, relaxing against each other for a long time. They couldn’t stay like that with everyone watching though, so hurried out of the airport towards Marc’s waiting car.

In the car, they kissed like it was their last day. Weeks of pent up frustration burst out til they were biting at each other’s lips, cold early morning hands on warm skin, pushing each other back in the passenger seat til it was almost horizontal.

“Come on, let’s go home,” said Marc after a while, breathing hard, his eyes wide. “We can’t stay the night here.”

“Home. That sounds nice.”

As he drove through the quiet, dark streets, Marc looked across to see Luca sagging in his set, his eyes shut and his head lolling to the side. So when they stopped at traffic lights, he quickly moved him back into his seat so he didn’t fall onto the dashboard.

Later, Luca lay snoring in Marc’s arms, he’d been too drained and emotional to even talk about the situation. Marc gazed at him, butterflies flapping in his stomach. _So, I’ve got my boyfriend in my bed and his brother is my worst enemy. What have I done?_

***

They spent the next day in bed, just getting up for food and drink, then in the evening they were woken by continuous pounding on the front door. Marc peeped out of the window to see a swarm of journalists with cameras, shouting, “Marc, where is Luca?” “We want to ask some questions!” and other less polite requests.

“Oh shit! They’ve found out you’re here.”

“What?” Luca rubbed his eyes.

“I’m going to switch my phone on.” When he did, there were forty-something messages from his brother, his parents, his team members and his lawyer, Carlos. Even some from Jorge and Dani. But before he could do anything, the phone rang and it was Alex.

“Marc! What have you done? Rossi has been calling Mama and Papa constantly. He says you’ve kidnapped his brother and he wants to press charges! Is it true?”

“Of course not! He came here of his own free will! I’m not a kidnapper!”

Luca’s eyes were wide and Marc put the phone on speaker.

“What? What’s happening?” Alex shouted.

“Luca and I are together. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but I knew you’d act like this about it.”

“What? Are you insane? He’s the brother of your worst enemy, who is telling the media you’re a child kidnapper!”

“I’m not a child!” shouted Luca. “I’m only a year younger than you, Alex Marquez!”

“You better speak to Carlos,” interrupted Alex. “He’s been calling us too.”

Marc pressed _end call_ but the phone rang again immediately. It was Carlos.

“Marc, what has happened? Mr Rossi is trying to press charges against you for kidnapping his brother. Obviously, Mr Marini is an adult but this looks very bad for you. What happened?”

Marc related the story of the airport adventure with Luca adding information. Carlos made lots of _hm_ and _uh-huh_ noises before saying, “let me speak to him.”

Luca launched into a vivid explanation of the row he’d had with his brother. “He found some pictures from Marc on my phone, he said he’d been suspicious for a while but they proved it. He went mental, he forced me to choose between him and Marc. He said if I didn’t choose him, he’d throw me off the ranch and out of the VR46 academy. So, I took matters into my own hands and left of my own accord. I’m not letting him decide what I do! Marc didn’t force me to do anything, I called him from the airport. Marc isn’t guilty of anything, I’m an adult and I can do what I like, I won’t let anyone—”

“So, the only thing that will hurt Marc in this situation is the bad publicity,” interrupted Carlos. “I must come and speak to you both in person.”


	4. Brace for impact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything gets out of hand.

While Luca and Marc waited for the lawyer to arrive, they watched television. There were headlines about their situation on every news bulletin: 

MARQUEZ KIDNAPS ROSSI’S BROTHER—THE FEUD HAS RESTARTED! on the celebrity gossip news.

TRUE LOVE KNOWS NO BOUNDARIES—FROM ENEMIES TO LOVERS on women’s interest shows.

MOTOGP RIDER VALENTINO ROSSI STARTS LEGAL PROCEEDINGS AGAINST MARC MARQUEZ on the serious news.

“Dear lord,” said Luca. “What have I done?”

“Do you wish you hadn’t come?”

“No! I’m glad I did. I don’t regret it for a minute! What about you? Do you think I should have stayed at the ranch?”

“No of course not! I just wish everyone would leave us alone.”

“They’ll get over it. When some celebrity does something weird, or my brother gets a new model girlfriend. Don’t worry.” His blue eyes shone with innocent trust and Marc couldn’t help grinning and blushing.

“But I better switch my phone on,” sighed Luca. “I can’t put it off any longer…oh look, loads of messages, I better—” His phone rang. “It’s Vale, shall I answer it?”

Marc shrugged so Luca took the decision.

“Luca!” shouted Vale. “Are you alright? I was so worried when you left in the night!” His voice was so loud that Luca had to hold the phone away from his ear. “What were you thinking? Why did you choose him and not me? He’s a devious, scheming—” 

“Of course I’m alright. You’re wrong, he isn’t like that.”

“He is like that! Look at what he did to me last year! He conspired against me with Lorenzo! He’s not the right man for you to have as a boyfriend! Uccio says—”

“Why is it any of your business? Or Uccio’s? I’m an adult, it’s not up to you!”

“He’s using you. Why can’t you see that? He’s trying to hurt me through you. You need to come back right now!”

Luca jumped out of his seat. “He’s not using me. It’s nothing to do with you! Why are you making it all about you?” He gestured angrily in the air.

“I’m not! Just come back home! Do as you’re told! It’s not like you to disobey me!”

“You’re not my father, you can’t order me around!” Luca paced the floor, still gesticulating wildly.

“Marc is a little fucking bastard! Why can’t you see that, for god’s sake! You’re being an idiot! Get back to the ranch right now!”

“I won’t! You only care about yourself. This isn’t about me at all!”

“Get back to the ranch! I won’t have you staying with him! You’ll only get hurt!”

“Oh right! It’s taken you all this time to think about how _I’ll_ get hurt. You only care about yourself and your own reputation, not me! I’m not coming back. Ever! So you’ll just have to deal with it!”

“Oh really? Don’t bother calling yourself my brother anymore! I hate you for conspiring with my worst enemy and Mama hates you too!”

“Well fuck you! I hate you too! How dare you bring Mama into it? Fuck you, Vale!”

The reply was such a volley of swearing, which Luca returned wholeheartedly, that Marc’s eyes almost popped out of his head. Luca threw the phone away from him, it hit the wall and a part broke off.

“Well that told him!” he shouted. “He said I’m not his brother anymore, he said Mama hates me and so does he!” His eyes were fiery blue now, like electric sparks and he kicked the sofa, making it move back a few inches.

“Yes, I understood most of that. Don’t worry. Nobody’s mother will ever hate them, whatever they do.”

“So, Mama won’t hate me? I don’t care about Vale, but I don’t want to be motherless.” His bottom lip trembled a little.

“Of course she won’t.”

Luca smiled a little, then jumped onto the sofa next to him and they cuddled up tightly.

Marc hoped his own mother wouldn’t hate him for ‘consorting with the enemy’, but then told himself not to be so silly. It wasn’t as if he’d murdered someone—although it may come to that if Vale treated Luca badly. He stared angrily into the distance over the blond head nuzzling up to his neck.

***

When Carlos drove up to Marc’s house, it took him an hour to get through the mass of journalists and fans.

“This is no good,” he panted after running from his car to Marc’s door and up the stairs. He was a stocky man, not built for running and his black, normally slicked back hair was flapping untidily. “You’ll have to move somewhere more secure.”

“I’m not leaving my home.” Marc folded his arms and glared at him.

“Marc, you will have to. Just for a little while. The security is far too casual here.”

“Where would we go?”

“You can both come and stay with me. At my villa.”

“You have a villa? I thought you lived in an apartment.”

“That’s just my city base. My villa is in Spain, in the countryside, its well protected and no one can harass you there.”

Luca was staring with his mouth open. “Is it like my brother’s ranch?”

“Much better! I have two pools, a home cinema, a gym, a spa and a landscaped garden.”

Marc raised his eyebrows. “How much do I pay you? Sounds like too much.” 

Carlos laughed. “You’re not my only client.”

“Sounds like somewhere we could stay for a while.”

“Good. And, did I forget to mention? I also have a track. I have other racing clients who come to visit. I find it keeps them out of my hair,” he smiled.

“A track?” Luca bounced up and down on his toes. “We’d love to come and stay, then!”

“I’ll make a few calls and arrange it.”

 

While Carlos was waiting for call backs, he discussed the situation with the couple. Basically, there was nothing Rossi could do to them legally because they were both adults, but due to his huge following of obsessive fans, he and they could make life very difficult—at races, in the media, with the teams. They would have to deal with the situation very carefully.

“You two have to be very committed to make this work,” warned Carlos. “This is a serious situation and it could tear you apart. Be very aware of that. You’re both very young, and…” He shrugged.

“Well, I’m committed!” shouted Luca, his eyes shining like stars. “I love Marc and no one’s going to get in my way!”

Marc grinned and went to hug him. He would never have dreamed in a million years that he would even like Valentino Rossi’s brother, let alone…did he love him yet? He hugged him extra tight to make up for not returning the declaration.

Carlos eyed them warily. The mismatch hadn’t escaped his notice, but he wanted to do his best for these two. He didn’t want either to go through the same hardships he had as a young man.


	5. Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun at the villa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And...breathe.

The afternoon they arrived at Carlos’ villa, Marc stood in their bedroom looking out over the lush, green landscape surrounding it. He couldn’t see the limits of the grounds because they were so vast.

“This is like a separate country,” he called to Luca, who was putting his toiletries in the en- suite bathroom. “Carlos-land.”

“Didn’t he say he had a track?”

“He did.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” He stepped out of the bathroom but Marc was too quick for him and ran to the doorway. They reached it at the same time and fought to get through it for a moment, laughing, then burst out into the corridor.

“How do we get out of this place?” said Luca, looking this way and that. “It’s like a maze.”

“We’ll try this way.” Marc jogged away down the corridor, Luca loping after him, and they pushed and shoved each other til they reached the staircase, which was a gentle spiral with polished wooden banisters.

With a whoop of excitement, Marc leapt onto the rail and slid down it, so Luca did the same. They ended up falling in a heap on the carpet by the last step, tangled up together and aching with laughter.

“Ah there you are,” said Carlos, gliding up to them like he was on wheels. “Please don’t make too much noise in the house but you can do what you like outside. All the facilities are at your disposal.” He nodded at the boys and ushered them towards the side door.

They set off for the track, still fighting each other to get there first. There were go-karts sitting by the starting line and a man in an overall sweeping up some leaves nearby.

“Can we use these?” Marc called to him and he nodded.

The man unfastened an outdoors locker and took out two helmets for them, then he started the karts. Marc jumped into the red kart and Luca into the blue one, then they drove off round the track, battling furiously, gesturing theatrically at each other and shouting instructions or insults. They cheated outrageously too—sometimes one would push the other with his foot or elbow, or try to hit the kill switch on the opposite kart.

They raced for hours until it began to get dark and they were actually tired. Clambering out of their karts, they tore off their helmets, each full of his own achievements.

“I won! I am the winner! I went fastest!” crowed Marc.

“No, you aren’t. _I'm_ the winner, I did more laps than you! What is my prize?” Luca stepped right up and pushed him against the low wall between the track and the landscape.

“ _I_ should have the prize, not you.” He made a kissy face at the tall Italian.

“Alright.” Luca kissed him so forcefully that they fell backwards over the wall into the bushes behind it, which luckily weren’t thorny.

“This is the most fun I’ve had…ever,” said Marc after a while.

“Better than winning five world championships?”

“Er…well…maybe not as good as that!”

“What?!”

“Okay, I suppose this is a bit better. Just a bit.”

Luca tutted. “I’m offended now, I shall sulk.” He rolled out of the bushes and down a slope which he hadn’t actually known was there.

“Come back!” Marc rolled after him and they ended up in a tangled heap again, not caring that they were on the stony path this time.

“Here we are again,” chuckled Carlos, stepping out of the shadows. “I’m guessing you had a nice afternoon? Come and have supper now. My cook has made what looks like a feast for us all.”

***

Carlos’ dining room was like a banqueting hall—long and thin with stained glass French windows looking out over his landscaped gardens, although it was hard to see very far over it because night was drawing in.

The long table was almost groaning with food. A huge paella sat at one end, covered in different types of shellfish, and surrounded by tapas of olives, peppers, ricotta, a bowl of patatas bravas, a pot of Spanish bean stew with chorizo and garlic sausages, while a hot orange and almond cake stood nearby, steaming.

The Italian guest hadn’t been forgotten either and Luca’s eyes widened when he saw a large pizza at the opposite end to the paella, covered in two types of cheese, tomato, herbs, ham. A dish of butternut squash risotto sat next to a bowl of meatballs, then a large plate of chicken, ham and asparagus in a creamy sauce with fettucine stood in front of one containing chocolate almond biscuits.

Carlos motioned for his guests to start, and they didn’t need any further encouragement, but headed for their favourite foods and tucked in as if they were starving wild beasts.

After about twenty minutes, the host rapped on the table like a judge in session. Marc and Luca stopped mid-bite and looked at him.

“I need to tell you that both your families have been calling non-stop. For some reason, both your phones are switched off.”

The two exchanged guilty glances.

“We just wanted a break from them,” said Marc.

Carlos made a dismissive gesture. “Once they found out you were staying here, there was a barrage of calls. Especially from Mr Rossi.”

“Oh yeah? What did he want?” Luca sneered.

“He wants to know when you’re going to come to your senses and go back to live with him.”

“I’m not. I mean, I am in my senses now and I’m happier not living with him.”

“How do you feel, Marc?” Carlos’ eyes bored into him. “Your parents spoke more reasonably, but they are worried about your training and how you’ll get on at races with the already mounting bad publicity. Many of Mr Rossi’s fans are known to be on the edge of sanity as it is. This has just made it all worse.”

“I could train in your gym, could I? I can keep up my fitness and stick to my diet too.”

“Yes of course. How do you feel about staying here for a while? Until it all calms down.”

Marc paused, thinking, aware of two sets of eyes watching. “I’ve been happy today. There is a weight off my mind now. Yes. I like it here and it’s time to be who I want, not a media puppet.”

Luca clapped. “Yes, it’s time. I used to watch you and think, _poor guy, he can’t do anything without people telling him what to do._ Now you can.”

Carlos smiled. “Please excuse me for a moment, I have to make a call.”

“You used to watch me, huh?” Marc threw an olive at Luca, hitting him on the cheek.

“Oi!” He looked round for a suitable missile and grabbed a stalk of asparagus, throwing it like a small spear til it hit his target’s neck and fell down his t-shirt.

“Eww, it’s all slimy!” Marc shrieked. He tried to get it out but only succeeded in making it slide down into his jeans. Disgusted, he stepped out of them to shake the slippery object out—but he wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

Luca burst into giggles. “Hey, look at you! Can’t you wait til we go to bed?” He received an oily slice of cooked pepper in the face for that and charged at Marc with a handful of risotto, but the Spaniard didn’t want to be an easy target, so ran off round the table, gathering food missiles as he went. They were both shouting curses and insults at each other, then suddenly the door creaked open and Carlos returned. But this time he was accompanied by a frail, white haired lady in a flowery dress.

Marc ran behind Luca to preserve his modesty and peered out round his arm, giggling.

Carlos coughed. “Er, boys, this is my mother, Senora Leonor Castillo. She lives in the annexe on the west side of the villa.”

“I am glad to meet you,” the lady quavered. “I can’t see very well but you both look like nice boys.”

“Good evening,” they said, suppressing giggles.

“Now mother, time for your favourite TV show.” Carlos ushered her out, glaring at his two guests and gesturing for them to clean up the mess they’d made. The minute he’d left, they burst out laughing.

“Oops. Not the way to impress my lawyer.” Marc wriggled his jeans back on, smirking.

“You never know. They might have been impressed by Spanish sausage.” Luca winked. “I mean the one in the stew. No, don’t throw that pepper. We’re meant to be tidying up.” 

Marc grinned. “We’re having fun.”

“Yes?”

“There are no sponsors, teams, fans or parents here and we’re just having fun for no reason.”

“That’s something new for you?” Luca tipped some leftover risotto into an empty bowl, spilling some on the lace table cloth.

“Yes. I hadn’t thought about it before. I can’t do anything without people watching and commenting and I’m tired of it!” He slammed his hand down flat on the table.

“I know what you mean. I see all that Vale puts up with—I wouldn’t want to be him. He can’t do anything without it being shared all over the world.”

“I have a great life but…I want a break. Just be _me_ for a while for once. Not _Marc Marquez, Famous Person._ ”

Luca hugged him. “You’re exhausted. We can stay here and hide til the next race.”

 _The next race._ The words hung in the air, ominously.


	6. Two Sides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They face the public and their families.

The days before the next race followed more or less the same pattern—Marc and Luca knew their training programmes off by heart, so followed those. Carlos had every type of equipment they could want— the well-equipped gym, the go kart track, the swimming pool, bicycles and extensive grounds to cycle in—so they spent all day competing with each other in various sports, which was fun as well as essential. Then at night they cuddled up in the king-size bed in their room which had a TV with all channels, a balcony and an en-suite bathroom with a hot tub.

“This is like a luxury hotel,” said Luca one evening, throwing himself backwards onto the bed and making it bounce. “Can’t we stay here forever and not face the world again?”

“How would that work?” Marc crashed into his side as he recklessly leapt onto the bed as well. 

“Ouch!”

“We’d have to start our own country and racing series and invite all our friends to it.”

“Sounds perfect. I hereby christen you King Marc of—of—”

“Lucaland.”

They burst into giggles and cuddled up, even though their muscles were aching from the days’ training and they were covered in mud, sweat, dust and dirt from their last exercise of the day, cycling.

“But I love it here,” said Marc. “It’s so peaceful being away from everyone who wants a piece of me.”

“Do you feel better then?”

“I wasn’t ill.”

“I mean, do you feel more relaxed? You were looking tense and pale.”

Marc stared into the blue eyes, like a clear mountain spring, and gulped. “I—I do feel better. Thanks for asking.” Even though they were on the bed, he felt like the floor was dropping away.

“Of course I’m asking! That’s what I’m here for.” Luca smiled and turned to look at the TV. “Let’s watch something, I’m knackered. We need room service.”

Marc kept gazing at him.

“Stop staring, you’re making me nervous.” But he was still smiling.

“Sorry.” Marc grabbed the remote control before he could get it. “What shall we watch?”

“Hey, it was my idea!” They wrestled with the remote for a while until Marc let him have it. Normally he’d never give up a competition for anything but this was Luca—probably the only person he could relax with.

“If I wasn’t Marc Marquez, world champion and mortal enemy of your brother, would you still like me?” he blurted. After he’d said it, he could have kicked himself at how harsh it sounded.

“What?” Luca’s icy gaze turned on him like a spotlight.

Marc waited.

“I can’t believe you! You should know by now that I’m not just doing this for some devious reason!” He sat up with a jolt. “What about you? You could be doing the same but the other way round! Trying to get to Vale through me! Get a grip and listen to yourself!”

Marc watched him for a minute, then sprang up and put his hands round Luca’s head, caressing his hair. He drew the handsome face towards him, and kissed him so forcefully that he fell back onto the bed. Their tongues wrestled, hard bodies pressed against each other, Marc pushed him down into the soft bed til they were out of breath. Luca was clawing at Marc’s hair and whimpering. When they paused for air, their chests heaving like bellows, Luca gazed up at him with big eyes. “What was that for?”

“Just because you’re the best person I know and—and—you make me feel better than anyone I’ve ever met. But I must admit this. I was happy when I found out you were Vale’s brother, I thought it might get him back for his accusations last year. But it’s not like that anymore, I promise. You’re perfect and I don’t care who your brother is, I don’t care if he kills me for seeing you, so I hope you believe me.” Marc dug his nails into his palms, hoping his admission hadn’t ruined everything.

Luca sat up, chewing his lip. “Okay. Well…thanks for admitting it.”

“You kind of took me by surprise. I just wanted you but I didn’t expect to love you.” Marc took himself by surprise then.

“Hah, don’t look so terrified! It’s only a word. You know I’m yours. I don’t care about the rest of them out there.” He waved his arm vaguely towards the window.

Marc smiled and kissed him more gently than before. 

***

However much they clung to each moment at Carlos’ villa, they could swear the days passed faster than normal. Hours turned into minutes, days into hours, the fortnight into two days. The next race, Le Mans, arrived like a speeding train, closer and closer until it was there waiting for them to jump on.

In Carlos’ limousine going to the airport, they held hands in silence.

“What’s going to happen?” asked Luca.

“Well, I asked Alex and parents to meet us at the track with the motorhomes. You can stay with us if you want. Is anyone meeting you?” They hadn’t discussed this, trying to prolong the innocent time before the world invaded their lives again.

“My team is standing by me. Balda has been texting me, so has my crew chief. They’ll be meeting me at Le Mans and we’ll take it from there. They’ll protect me.”

Marc squeezed his hand.

***

At the airport, Repsol and Kalex PR representatives met them. Carlos had dealt with the teams, now he was staying behind in Spain and it was back to reality for Marc and Luca.

“You’ve certainly caused a lot of gossip,” said Ana from Repsol as she hurried through the airport lounge with Marc and their bodyguards.

He shrugged. “People will have to deal with it. Where’s Luca?”

“He’s gone with the Kalex party. We thought it would be better if you stayed separate going to the track.” She indicated the groups of fans who were being kept at a distance by security guards and barriers. Some of the were jeering and shouting _faggots, queers, you’ve ruined MotoGP_ and other unpleasant phrases.

But there was a smaller group defiantly waving a rainbow banner with the red equals sign for equality in one corner.

So Marc changed his direction and stalked over to them, ignoring the haters shaking their fists and sneering. The appreciative smiles on the faces of the rainbow group told him he’d done the right thing. He posed for selfies with them and signed autographs, while Ana and the Repsol bodyguards hovered around anxiously.

Out of the corner of his eye however, he could see someone pushing their way through the crowd towards him so turned in surprise. It was Luca, looking determined.

“I got away from my team too,” he smiled and put his arm round Marc. Their fans screamed with excitement and so many flashes went off in their faces, they were almost blinded and began laughing with the shock.

“What’s happening about Rossi suing you, Marc?” shouted a rotund man in a baseball cap, from the back of the group.

“Don’t answer that,” said Ana in Marc’s ear, so he ignored the man.

“Are you sharing a motorhome at the track?” asked a blonde woman wearing a brown suede jacket.

They looked at each other. “We hadn’t thought of that,” said Luca. “Maybe we should.”

“Your brother would go insane,” said Marc innocently.

“Hm, yes. He would.” Luca winked and the rainbow group cheered so loudly that all the people within earshot in the airport turned to look. Even the homophobic group stared, their expressions like they’d been slapped by a wet fish.

***

The couple arrived at Le Mans with their entourages who had merged for convenience—both riders insisted they would travel together so there was no point having the Repsol and Kalex groups sitting separately.

The time had come. Luca and Marc made their way slowly to where Alex had said he’d park the motorhomes, away from where fans swarmed around prying into riders’ lives. He and his mother, Roser, had driven one, his father Julia the other, from Spain to France.

“Marc!” said Roser, throwing her arms around her elder son. “We were so worried. You hid out with Carlos without telling us and wouldn’t talk to us, we thought we’d done something wrong.”

“No, mama, I just wanted some privacy, that’s all.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you officially,” said Julia politely, shaking Luca’s hand. He was more the same height as the Italian and looked him in the eyes, trying to work out whether he was likely to hurt Marc. Alex did the same but Luca kept his head held high and met their glances proudly.

“Are your parents here?” asked Julia to fill the awkward silence.

“Yes, I must find them.” But before Luca could move, Vale walked up to them, flanked by Uccio and another man, probably his lawyer.

Alex and Julia immediately pushed Luca and Marc behind them, like soldiers protecting their generals but the couple didn’t want to hide behind other people, so stepped out. They moved towards each other and stood there, defiantly holding hands.

Vale glared at Luca and Marc and they glared back. Uccio stood next to his friend, also frowning. None of the men spoke—the only noises were in the distance of bikes revving, fans shouting and loudspeakers booming. No-one wanted to be the one to break the silence.

At last Roser took Luca’s hand and went to lead him towards his brother. He resisted until Marc looked at him and he relented. Roser took him slowly forward until he was a foot away from Vale, who was glaring at her, with Uccio hovering next to him.

“Valentino, you are brothers,” she said, looking from one to the other. “You must make up quickly because none of us know how long we have on Earth.”

They both waited, then the older brother held out his hand and Roser put the younger brother’s hand in it. 

“I’m so s-sorry I said I h-hated you,” stuttered Vale. “I didn’t mean it. And mama doesn’t hate you either, it was just what I said when I was angry.”

“Well…I don’t really hate you either.” Luca sighed. “You just have to accept I am an adult and make my own choices now.”

“Yes, yes, yes. I accept that. Please don’t shut me out of your life.”

“Well, okay. But what about the lawyers you’ve set on Marc?”

“I will sort that out, I promise. Let us be civil again.”

“Yes, we need to move on.”

They hugged each other, relaxing at last. But as Vale looked over his brother’s shoulder at Marc, his eyes were cold and harsh, and Marc returned the look completely.

***

The race began with Jorge, Vale and Marc standing on the front row as usual with Maverick, Dani and Iannone behind them. When the red lights went out, Jorge hared off as if he’d been fired from a gun, followed by super-starter Dani and determined Maverick. The trio pulled away from the pack easily, leaving Vale and Marc behind them.

Marc had been a little nervous before the race, fearing what Vale would do to him but it seemed he wanted to race cleanly and the Spaniard relaxed. 

But slowly, lap after lap, Vale didn’t ride away from him and he couldn’t get away. They battled harder and harder, at first the odd bump, then more leg and fairing scraping until they were almost connected, going round the corners together, sparks flying off both bikes. Marc gritted his teeth. He would not give in. This was a battle of honour. He had done nothing wrong and if it had to be proved on track, so be it.

In the garages, the Marquez and Rossi-Marini family members were gripped by the duel, the mothers crying, the fathers shouting for their son’s victory, the brothers worried about whatever the outcome would be. Alex, of course, favoured his own brother but he was concerned for his friend Luca too, who wanted both his boyfriend and his brother to survive this.

On the penultimate lap, both tired, the adversaries became even more desperate, swiping at each other and using dusty, slippery parts of the track not usually ridden on. At the most difficult corner, turning right after a downhill section, the Repsol and Yamaha riders took different lines and came together on the bend. The bikes smashed together, hitting each other at awkward angles which made them cartwheel away, throwing their riders off into the gravel like rag dolls.

“Neither of them are moving!” shouted the commentator, his voice blaring out of loudspeakers everywhere, unescapable and ominous. The orange figure lay at one side of the gravel, the blue figure at the other. Both motionless.


	7. Scorpion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The riders' injuries revealed.

The race was of course red flagged and the riders all returned in a sombre fashion to their garages, the bike engine noises low and jittery instead of roaring like a mob of angry lions as they normally did.

In the Yamaha garage, Vale’s mother, Stefania, was screaming, “My baby! My baby!” and tearing at her hair as she watched the screens showing her son being carried away on a stretcher. Her current husband tried to calm her by stroking her arm and back but she wouldn’t be comforted.

Luca wanted to shout, “My boyfriend! My boyfriend!” but thought it would be unwise so he just shouted it in his mind, which was full of jumbled thoughts— _Marc can’t be dead! He must only be winded! What if he’s badly injured? What if he can’t ride again? He’ll be heartbroken!_ Luca’s father Massimo hurried up to him.

“It’ll be alright,” he soothed, consumed with worry about his son. “They’ll both be fine.”

Luca allowed his father to hug him, but looked this way and that, wondering what to do, who to ask, how to find out what had happened to Marc.

A Yamaha employee scurried up to Vale’s father Graziano and whispered for a long time in his ear. Stefania ran over to listen and then burst into happy tears, embracing Graziano as if they were still married. “He’s conscious!” she exclaimed. “He will be racing again soon!”

Luca stared at them, thoughts still streaming through his mind— _that’s great about Vale but how will I know about Marc? This must be how he felt when I broke my collarbone. It’s all Vale’s fault anyway, I’ll never forgive him if Marc—_

Maverick strode into the garage, taking off his helmet, his face white as a sheet. He stopped in front of Luca.

“I didn’t see what happened, but Marc was taken away on a stretcher,” he said. 

“How will we know if-if he-I mean if he’s—” stammered Luca. He and Maverick stared at each other for a moment. 

“Come on,” said the Yamaha rider, patting Luca’s arm. “We’ll go to Repsol. They won’t let _me_ in there but they have to tell _you_ what happened.” He drew Luca out of the garage, leaving the Rossi-Marini relatives all in different states of emotion.

When they reached the Repsol garage, it was in the same condition as in the Yamaha one—people running round, or muttering to each other in corners, Marc’s family in a huddle hugging each other, all in tears.

“What’s happened to Marc?” demanded Maverick of the nearest person in a Repsol uniform. “Luca needs to know.”

Luca felt like his knees would give way if he didn’t hear some news soon and clutched Maverick’s arm tightly. The employee went to ask someone else and left them waiting fearfully.

Then Dani came hurrying out from behind the mass of people. “Marc is still unconscious,” he said over the noise. “He’s gone to hospital.”

Luca felt tears gathering in his eyes.

“It’ll be alright, don’t worry.” Dani hugged him, which was very difficult as he was about one foot shorter than the lanky Italian. He had to stand on tiptoe while Luca bent his knees a little.

Maverick watched them anxiously and Dani made an anxious face back at him over Luca’s shoulder.

***

Of course, both fallen riders had been taken to the same hospital nearby, so Luca was swept along by his family to go and see his big brother. He presumed the Marquezes had gone to see Marc and hoped he’d see them all at some point.

_This is all happening too fast, one minute I was happy with Marc and now he’s in hospital unconscious. Why did I ever think it would work out between us? One of us is bound to die sooner or later._

He shook his head to clear it. _Don’t be so negative. There’s always hope._ He looked out of the window at the streets and houses they were passing by in the car. Graziano was driving, with his current wife next to him while Luca and his own father sat in the back. _Thank god my dad is here._ He patted his dad’s knee and Massimo smiled.

***

At the hospital, Vale was lying in his bed looking pale and tired. He had a broken collarbone and ankle, but Luca wasn’t sympathetic after seeing his behaviour with Marc on track.

“It’ll take a few weeks,” he said to his brother. “But you’re always lucky and get away with everything, so you’ll probably be better in a few days.” He felt light headed with worry about Marc and not sure what he was saying.

“Where is—er—how is—your boyfriend?” Vale mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

“You mean Marc? The one you ran off the track?”

“Yes, him.”

“I don’t know. I just—I don’t know what to do, I don’t want to intrude on his family.” Luca wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Go to him then. Go now.” Vale smiled weakly. He looked old, Luca thought. World weary. Until he made his usual _are you stupid or something_ face so Luca rolled his eyes and hurried out.

“Where is Marc Marquez?” he asked the nearest nurse, who luckily knew exactly what the situation was and directed him to Intensive Care.

He walked quickly to the ICU but slowed as he neared the ward. _Will they even let me in? I’m not related to him in any way. Should I wear a mask to visit vulnerable patients?_ He stopped and leaned on the wall, trying to slow his pounding heart.

Just then Alex Marquez shuffled out of the door—he looked like Luca felt.

“Ah there you are,” Alex sighed. “He’s in a coma.” He sagged against the wall and for a minute Luca thought he was going to fall over. So he led his Moto2 colleague to a seating area and they flopped down on chairs.

“Mama and Papa are with him, he’s sleeping like a baby.” Alex’s eyes were red rimmed. “I’m so worried.” Then he looked quickly at Luca. “I’m sorry, you’re worried too. The doctors here are the best around, Mama said. They’ll fix him.”

Luca gave a huge sigh. “When can I see him?”

“Soon, I think.” Alex gave a bitter smile. “Just let Mama and Papa finish weeping over him. Well, Mama anyway.”

***

After a warm embrace from Roser and a two-handed handshake from Julia, Luca went in to see Marc. He was lying there like an angel, surrounded by beeping machines, with a breathing tube in his mouth and his head was bandaged on the right side. Luca clenched his fists and rage surged through him. _It’s all Vale’s fault. He acted like he was fine with me and Marc but he was lying. He wanted to hurt him and he did. I won’t go and visit him again, ever._

He visited Marc every day though. Now the champion lay injured in hospital, the world had forgotten to be outraged that he was having a relationship with his worst enemy’s brother, therefore many people had sent presents and letters to the injured rider. That was only a small consolation of course—Luca would rather everyone hated them and Marc was still awake, than this alternative. 

Luca knew that talking to a patient in a coma could wake them up again, so he read out the more suitable and least hysterical emails from Repsol fans—some of them wanted to visit Marc, some had written love letters to him, some sent beautiful cards with hearts and flowers on. Luca brought magazines and newspapers to the room and read out any articles about anything he thought Marc would like to hear. Fans had also sent gifts—teddy bears, bunches of flowers, cushions with _Marc_ embroidered on them, balloons with pictures of Marc’s face on—so Luca arranged them around the room and described them for his benefit, often with amusement. 

***

Luca continued visiting for a week, watching his silent love lying there as if waiting for his prince to come and wake him. Luca had tried gently kissing his cheek and his lips and whispering in his ear, but to his dismay it didn’t work—the machines carried on beeping and buzzing around him, and Marc remained asleep. Doctors and nurses went in and out of the room to check and monitor their patient, the Marquez family alternated ‘shifts’ with Luca—sometimes he was alone with Marc, sometimes Alex or his mother was there too.

Both the Marquez and Rossi-Marini families had taken rooms in nearby luxury hotels to be close to their boys. Luca had his own room, which he loved because he could just go back there after a ‘shift’ with Marc and collapse. He didn’t have to answer questions from his own or anyone’s parents, make small talk with people he didn’t know, or speak to any journalists. He could just laze around watching French television shows, not really knowing what they were saying, but they were enough to soothe him to sleep in the lonely double bed.

***

Early one morning his phone rang and he sleepily picked it up to see _Alex Marquez_ on the screen. His heart began to beat faster. _Is Marc better? Worse? Surely he hasn't—_

“Hey Alex?”

“He’s awake!” stammered the familiar voice. “Quick, come to the hospital!”

Luca threw on some clothes, then thought maybe he should have a shower. He didn’t want to stink when he met Marc again. So he had the quickest shower ever, scrubbing at himself like he was washing the windows. At last he was ready, dry and dressed, and he hurried on foot to the hospital.

He waited outside Marc’s room, peeping in through the nurses’ observation window like a spy. Marc was still lying propped up instead of sitting normally, but smiling at his mother, father and brother. But even from here, Luca could tell his reactions were slower—it took longer for his smile to reach his whole face—it was like watching a slow sunrise. The bandage on his head was much smaller now too—it was more like a dressing. Luca bounced up and down on his toes. It wouldn’t be long now til he could talk to him again.

Roser, Julia and Alex sauntered out of the room grinning. “Your turn now,” said Roser, and Luca tiptoed in.

“Hello Marc!” he exclaimed, beaming. He didn’t want to rush at Marc and hug him—it might scare him as he’d just woken up, so he sat nervously on the chair by his bed.

“I’m so glad you’re better. I was hoping and hoping you’d wake up soon, everyone’s been so worried, especially me!” he babbled. “Look at all the presents and cards and flowers, they’ve all forgotten to be shocked by our relationship, so we can just carry on without worrying about them. Not that I was worrying about them, I’m just so happy you’re awake again and your injuries will soon heal and you’ll be back on your bike in no time, back to racing and—” He realised Marc was staring at him blankly with a trace of fear in his eyes.

“What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” He took Marc’s hand in concern.

But Marc snatched his hand away and cowered back a little. “Wh-who are you? Where’s my Mama? I don’t know you, I want my family!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well today was never going to be a good day in the world so why not post this and get it over with?


	8. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to emerge from the darkness.

Luca stared at him, unable to form words for a moment. He finally stammered, “I—I’m Luca. I’m your b—boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend? B—but where’s my family? Can you get them, please?”

“Yes. Yes of course.” He hurried out, tripping over his own feet in haste, and strode to the pleasant, pale green waiting area where the other members of the Marquez family sat.

“Marc wants to see his parents now,” he managed to say fairly normally, and Julia and Roser scurried out, talking excitedly to each other. But then a wave of shock hit him so he flopped into one of the big, soft armchairs with a huge sigh and closed his eyes.

“What’s the matter?” Alex crouched next to him and patted his arm. “You don’t look right.”

“He doesn’t know who I am.” He opened his eyes and looked at Alex. “He was scared of me and didn’t know I was his boyfriend.”

“WHAT?! He didn’t know you? B—but he knows me and our parents. Wh—what’s happened?”

“How should I know? He didn’t recognise me.”

“It must be temporary. It can’t last. He likes you so much.”

Luca paused. “He even said he loved me.”

Alex’s jaw dropped and he stared for a few moments. “Well! Well—if he—er—if he said that, he must get his memory back, he must! Don’t worry. We’ll ask the doctors.” He jumped up and went to look for one.

Luca slumped in his chair, feeling like he’d been knocked over by a truck. He’d had lots of bike accidents of course but never like this. All his injuries had been physical but this was emotional and he felt like there was a hole in his heart.

A few minutes later, a doctor wearing her blonde hair scraped back into a bun, hurried into the room and pulled a chair up to Luca. “So, Alex tells me that Marc has forgotten you?” She patted the young Italian’s arm.

“He just didn’t know who I was and asked for his family.”

“I see. Well this can happen with head injuries and is often temporary as the brain tries to adjust and catch up with current events. I’ll go and do some tests on him, talk to my colleagues and we’ll get to the bottom of this. Don’t worry.” She stood up, frowning, and left the room.

“The doctors will sort it out, don’t worry,” said Alex, hovering nearby. “I’ll tell Mama and Papa, they can help.” He left the room too.

Luca now sat alone with his thoughts, although his mind was struggling to work it all out. _How can me and Marc be so happy one minute then strangers the next? It’s not fair!_ He jumped up, fists clenched. _I know whose fault this is!_

He stamped off to his brother’s room. Vale was sitting up normally in his bed, surrounded by a sea of yellow flowers, scarves, flags, cushions and many other gifts. He smiled when he saw Luca.

“Hey, how are you?”

Luca glared at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Marc d—doesn’t know who I am! He’s forgotten me!”

“WHAT?” Vale’s eyes widened. “He doesn’t know who you are?”

“It’s all your fault! If you hadn’t fought him at Le Mans, he wouldn’t be in this condition!”

“But—”

“You’ve injured him permanently and I’ll never get him back now!”

“But Luca—”

“Congratulations! You got exactly what you wanted and split us up. I’m really happy for you!”

“But I—”

Luca stormed out, heading for the colourful, luxuriant garden outside the hospital where people went to relax, mourn or just inhale some fresh air. He wanted to get away from the whole situation for a few minutes at least, otherwise he’d murder his brother.

***

Roser and Julia sat with Luca after they’d talked to the doctors about Marc.

“He asked who you were the minute we went in,” Marc’s mother said. “So we knew something was wrong, then Alex came in with the doctor. Don’t worry, dear. It’ll be alright.” She hugged him, smelling warm and fragrant, which reminded him of his own mother. He should go and see her but she was so wrapped up with her beloved Vale, her first born.

“The doctor did tests but can’t find anything serious,” continued Roser. “So it’s just a matter of time til he can remember things again. They are going to move him to a Spanish hospital near our home, would you like to come and stay with us? Then you can see him more easily.”

Luca nodded, trying not to cry. _This is a nightmare, I wish I could wake up._

“Don’t worry, dear, it will all be okay. Marc is tough, he’s recovered from worse things than this.” Roser hugged him again.

“Yes, it will be okay. Have faith,” said Julia, patting them both. “You are welcome to stay with us as long as it takes. It’ll be like having another son in the house, you can have your own room.”

***

Later that day, Alex took Luca to see Marc in his room.

“You’ve forgotten Luca, so I thought I should introduce you properly. This is Luca Marini.” Alex gestured formally to the Italian. “Luca, Marc. Marc, Luca.”

Marc blushed and looked everywhere but at him—over his shoulder, at the wall, at Alex. His embarrassment affected Luca, who let his glance slowly fall to the floor.

But Marc’s sudden question made him jump. “Are you my boyfriend, like you said you were?”

Luca nodded, feeling like he was being displayed as a candidate for an arranged marriage.

“Why can’t I remember you?” Marc’s lip trembled.

“The doctor said it could take some time to get all your memory back,” said Alex. “Don’t worry, it’ll happen.” He stepped over to hug him.

“Where is my bike? When can I ride again?” Marc looked out of the window as if he expected to see it outside.

“So you remember riding your bike?” exclaimed Luca.

“Of course! I’m a rider, that’s what I do.” Marc smiled, not as broadly as he used to but it was still a smile.

“The doctor said give it few months,” said Alex. “You’ve got to get all your senses back properly, they aren’t right yet.”

“Months?”

“You have to stay in hospital for a while so they can do tests and find out what’s happened to your memory.”

“I’ll get bored stupid staying here.” Marc pouted. “Go away now, I’m tired.” He closed his eyes, sulking.

“He didn’t like me at all,” said Luca as he walked back with Alex to the waiting area. “He couldn’t bear to look at me.”

“I’m sure that wasn’t the reason. He was just surprised, that’s all.”

***

After the other two had left, Marc became lost in thought. It was strange being in a kind of limbo, only knowing his parents and brother, and recognising the doctors and nurses as he’d seen them so often. Other people had visited him but he wasn’t sure who they were. There was the guy called Tito, he looked very familiar and Marc felt safe with him, but the others could be anyone. It was exciting in some ways as he liked meeting new people, but it was nice to be alone for a while now, and not have to keep thinking ‘who’s that?’ all the time.

A beeping noise made him jump and he looked round for the source of it. A phone was flashing next to his bed—of course, that must be his phone. He picked it up and the screen message said _Luca’s birthday, August 10th._ The date on the phone, however, said June 10th–so it was a two-month reminder.

He smiled to himself. _Obviously I need to give myself a long period of warning to remember special occasions. But Luca must be important to me if I’ve got his birthday on my phone._

A thought crossed his mind. What was the code to unlock it? The screen had gone dark again but a number popped into his mind. 9310. He tapped it in and yes! The phone reawakened. He grinned at remembering something correctly.

He went straight to the photos section. There were pictures of him with Alex wearing their race suits, smiling, play-fighting and making funny faces. Pictures of himself with the beautiful orange number 93 bike which he knew instinctively was his own. Also pictures of himself with a number 93 dirt bike, and some with him surrounded by kids in racing gear—that rang a bell, he remembered kids running round him and teaching them how to ride better. Then others with himself and his parents, himself holding trophies, standing on podiums with other racing guys who looked vaguely familiar, especially the little rider also wearing orange. _My team mate! Yes!_

And then he saw a separate photo album called Accountant. That name was boring but something resonated in his mind and he opened it. The first photo was a selfie of he and Luca smiling, their cheeks pressed together closely. He scrolled through to find some more of these, then lots of pictures of Luca looking cute, long distance videos of what must be him riding a bike over jumps. And then some more ‘artistic’ ones. His eyes widened at the photos of Luca lying naked on a bed in various positions—there were only five of those but Marc just went back and forth looking at them, not knowing how to feel. 

He caught sight of himself in the mirror over the sink—his shocked expression was so funny that he burst out laughing, making himself jump at the loudness of it. Which made him laugh even more, releasing the tension he hadn’t known he was carrying.

Then he had another idea and went to look at his text messages. He gasped when he read the ones from Luca. So loving and affectionate! Tears gathered in his eyes and he sniffed, reaching for a tissue from his bedside table.

Overwhelmed, he put the phone down and bit his lip. _Luca meant a lot to me before the accident. I must get to know him again. I have to find out what there is between us._

He smirked. _That won’t be difficult. When Alex told me that Luca was my boyfriend, I couldn’t imagine a hot guy like that would fancy ME. I thought Alex was winding me up but he obviously wasn’t._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really posting to make myself feel better as things may be about to get horrible in my life. I'd rather leave this story on a happier note in case I have to stop writing it or whatever.


	9. Do I Know You From Somewhere?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is topsy turvy.

“Snap!” shouted Marc. “I’ve won again! How many times have I beaten you now?”

“I’ve lost count,” said Luca, smiling.

Marc made a triumphant noise, like the weeeeh sound made by a firework, and they burst out laughing. Luca hadn’t realised til recently what strange noises Marc made when winning, or feeling proud, or triumphant— sometimes he sounded like a ship’s hooter or a hissing cat. These noises never failed to make them both giggle and Luca was often aching with laughter after game time.

Marc had to keep working at this regime of getting his brain and memory fully functioning again. It involved playing games like Snap, memorising items and lists, and hand-eye co-ordination challenges like juggling, which he mastered very quickly. Luca actually loved playing these games with him—at first, he’d thought it would be weird, like being his therapist, but it was so much fun. And it wasn’t a chore to go to the Spanish hospital he’d been moved to—the room was the most luxurious Luca had ever seen—it was huge, with different areas for sleeping, eating and physiotherapy.

“You’re so good at winning,” he chuckled. “Anyone would think you were a five-time world champion.”

Marc looked at him blankly.

“Remember, you’ve won five MotoGP world championships. I told you that.” Luca could have kicked himself for being tactless. The doctor in charge of Marc’s case had held many progress meetings with the Marquez family, including Luca, and warned them many times that Marc had forgotten important details about his life and himself. But the doctor said just to play along and one day, the proper memories would return.

“Oh yes. Sorry. When can I ride my bike again?”

“When you can walk properly and react quicker to things.” He punched slowly at Marc to test him, but he just shouted, “get off!”, watched Luca’s fist hitting his arm and laughed.

It was a strange feeling to be with a slower version of Marc. He reacted slower, he laughed slower, he moved slower but he was also more gentle and studied things for longer instead of rushing around like he used to. Sometimes he would just come to a complete stop, looking at a photo or a flower or something, and Luca would have to nudge him to get him moving again. Every day, however, he was speeding up and every day Luca visited him in hospital, he was that little bit faster at everything. Just tiny improvements but noticeable.

So Luca felt like the older one guiding and helping him. He therefore enjoyed staying at the Marquez’ home where he could be the youngest, his usual role. He felt like Alex was his older brother—he was much closer in age to him than Vale of course, so they had more interests in common. Luca’s dad visited often too and it was nice to speak in Italian and relax sometimes.

Alex and Luca travelled to their Moto2 races together—keeping each other motivated despite their concern for Marc—and Luca’s team was brilliant at taking care of him. He liked spending time with Balda again, who was always playing pranks to cheer him up, and with his crew. All the members of his team supported him without question, fielding media enquiries about Marc endlessly without getting impatient.

“Now can we play the racing game?” asked Marc, bringing him back to the present.

“Yes, of course.” Luca got the play stations and the MotoGP game ready.

“Come on.” Marc patted the bed cover next to him and Luca cautiously sat down. The bed was too narrow for them to sit side by side however, so they sat on the floor leaning against the back of the sofa. They enjoyed racing on the virtual MotoGP track—at first Luca had been very careful not to hurt him even in virtual reality but Marc’s racing skills were very quickly getting back to how they were before, so they fought tooth and nail like they used to, laughing and shouting at each other. Marc just got more and more competitive over the days and weeks, and he got louder and louder and funnier and funnier too. Luca kept a close eye on him, however, so he didn’t get too stressed or worried about what he could and couldn’t remember or do. 

***

One day Luca was walking to Marc’s room to relieve Alex after his ‘shift’ and overheard them talking.

“My boyfriend seems so very nice. He’s the nicest person I’ve met since the accident.”

“He IS nice. He was your boyfriend for a few months before the accident too.”

“It’s so sad I can’t remember him. Maybe he’s got better things to do than look after me.”

“He visited you every day while you were in a coma. Don’t push him away.”

“I’m not going to!”

Luca’s heart ached and he paused for a moment before opening the door.

“We were just talking about you.” Marc grinned at him. “Game time!”

They sat playing the usual games, laughing and joking as they always did but when they took a break, Marc said, “Can you remind me again? These people who keep coming to visit me. The tall one with the curly hair is Valentino, your brother. The little cute one is Dani, my team mate. The one with the grey eyes is Jorge. Who’s the dark haired one with the beard again?”

“That’s Dovi, Jorge’s team mate. His real name is Andrea Dovizioso but everyone calls him Dovi for short.”

“And what are the names of those two brothers who are always hugging me?”

“Aleix and Pol Espargaro.” Luca smiled.

Marc sighed. “It’ll stick in my brain eventually. The only people I’m certain about are my mama, papa and brother. And you of course. God, I’m so stupid!”

“You are not stupid! You had a serious accident and lost part of your memory. Don’t be so hard on yourself!”

Marc smiled weakly.

“But wait. Valentino comes to see you? What does he say?”

“He just talks about the races we had together and tells me about his bike and the other riders. I don’t know what he’s talking about half the time.”

“Don’t worry—most people don’t. But, does he talk about…Sepang 2015?”

“No. What’s that? Did something happen there?”

“No. Nothing. Nothing happened. He is nice to you though?”

“Yes. I thought he was my friend. Isn’t he?”

“Well, you’ve had arguments with him but he realises now that those were stupid. He’s grown up, I hope.” The irony of this was not lost on Luca—talking about his 38-year-old brother as if he was a child who needed to learn a lesson.

Marc shrugged. “Okay. Can you do me a favour?”

“Of course, anything.”

“Give me a hug, I’m feeling lost.”

Luca leant forward and awkwardly put his arms round him.

“You smell familiar,” said Marc, sniffing deeply.

“What do I smell of?”

“I dunno. Italian stuff. Some kind of cake.”

Luca smiled. “I’ll bring your favourite Italian cake next time I visit.”

“Ooh!” he shrieked, hugging Luca tighter.

***

Marc found it hard to walk after the accident so he had physiotherapy treatment and Luca helped him with that too. The physiotherapist, knowing they were both used to training and working on their muscles, virtually left them to it, only checking on their progress every so often.

“Shall I try just one hand?” said Marc as he walked forwards holding Luca’s hands as he reversed.

“Go on then.”

Marc let go with his left hand and stepped out heroically, but lost his balance and tipped to one side. Luca tried to catch him, but the angle was too awkward and they fell backwards onto the crash mat set up for people practising walking.

“See, I’m falling for you again,” he joked as he landed on Luca with a bump.

Luca’s heart hurt a little at the joke but Marc was smiling at him so it wasn’t all bad.

“I am lucky aren’t I.” His grin was nearly back to its full strength.

“Why do you say that now we’re in a heap on the floor?”

“I’ve got a loving family and friends, and a hot boyfriend.”

“So…you think I’m hot do you?”

“Well look at you. tall, blond and handsome. I’m just some short, dark guy.”

Luca blushed and couldn’t think of anything to say. 

Marc hugged him. “I feel safe and happy with you. But I’ve forgotten, how old are you again?” He looked up.

“I’m nineteen.”

“And I’m seventeen aren’t I. Or am I eighteen or—” He frowned and the scared look came into his eyes again.

Luca carefully sat them up together. “No, you’re older than me. Can you remember by how much?”

“I’m older?”

“You’re twenty-four now. Don’t worry, its normal to forget things like numbers, the doctor said.”

Marc’s eyebrows were almost in his hairline. “Twenty-four? I’ve missed some years, when will they come back?”

“One day, I’m sure.” Luca squeezed his arm.

“But I thought I’d be taller by age twenty-four. I’m still a short arse.” He tutted.

“There’s nothing wrong with short people.” Luca smiled. “They’re cute and useful for going under bridges.”

Marc laughed. “Cute? Give me a kiss then.”

But Luca didn’t know if it was ethical for him to kiss someone with memory loss, especially someone who thought he was younger than he was. “Are you sure? I don’t want to—y’know—”

“You don’t want to—what?”

“I don’t want to take advantage of you when you can’t remember me or even your own age.”

“What does any of that matter? I like you and you like me so I shall kiss you.”

So he kissed Luca on the lips, gently at first, then more passionately. They only stopped because the physiotherapist coughed nearby.

“You two are very sweet but you do need to practice walking, not kissing,” she smiled, so Luca helped Marc to his feet and they continued with his exercises.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Marc whispered to him when she’d gone.

“Of course it wasn’t.” Luca grinned, thinking maybe there was hope after all.


	10. A Special Occasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone has a birthday.

Luca’s father invited him and Marc to his house in Italy for Luca’s twentieth birthday. As a psychologist, Massimo Marini was very rich and his house magnificent—Luca had shown pictures of it from the times he went to stay there and Marc’s eyes widened to see the pool, the gym, the indoor cinema, among all the other luxuries.

“It might be quite a weird or even boring party,” said Luca nervously as he sat on the sofa with Marc in his hospital room. “Papa is fascinated by interesting psychological cases, so he probably wants to study you and work out why you can’t remember parts of your life.”

Marc laughed. “You mean he’ll wire me up to machines and stick needles in me? I’ve had enough of that in hospital.”

“No…I mean he’ll ask you lots of questions and see what you can remember.”

“Oh. Well, I guess as long as he doesn’t put me in a strait jacket, it’ll be okay. Will I have to lie on a couch and tell him all my problems?”

“Of course not.” Luca laughed at the thought. “We’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t talk to you all night, we want to have _some_ fun, don’t we?”

Marc made a suggestive noise. “Oh, do we? You’ll have to show me what you mean.” He waggled his eyebrows.

***

Because Marc was doing so well with his recovery, the doctors allowed him to go with Luca to celebrate his birthday at Massimo’s house. But they insisted that his family went with him, so he wouldn’t get too confused and upset by being in a strange place surrounded by strangers and have a relapse.

“Do our families know each other?” asked Marc. “I don’t remember any of your family of course, but do they?”

“No, they don’t. I hope it won’t be awkward. I’m not sure who will be there apart from my Papa, my step mother and my real mother. Vale may be there.”

“Well, that’s alright, isn’t it? You said he was my friend?”

Luca paused. “Okay, listen. Although Vale’s got over it now, he wasn’t happy about me and you at first.”

“Why not?”

In his head, Luca prayed not to be struck down for lying. “He thought because you’re twenty-four and I’m only nineteen, the age gap was too big.”

“Oh.” Marc thought for a while. “Well…maybe he thinks now I’ve lost those years we’re more like the same age.”

Luca smiled a little. _If only that was true. But I don’t want to upset you by telling you the truth about his argument with you at Sepang and the aftermath of it. I’ll leave that for now._ So, he changed the subject. “Your parents are really nice…think they’ll get on well with mine?”

“I guess so. My Mama is traditional, she’ll talk with yours about how scary it is to have sons racing on track. Not sure about Papa. He probably won’t have anything in common with a psychologist like yours.”

“If Vale’s father is there, maybe he can help them find something to talk about—he knows my Papa and also knows about racing, like yours does.” _But what if Julia blames Graziano for the accident? Or starts arguing with Vale about all that happened in 2015?_ Luca chewed his lip, hoping Marc wouldn’t notice his concern.

***

“I’ve put you in the blue guest room,” said Massimo Marini, opening the door for Luca and Marc to put their bags in. The room was neat and functional, minimalist with pale blue walls displaying abstract paintings in black frames, and there were twin beds. Luca looked at his father questioningly.

“Twin beds mean you can share a room with no pressure,” he said and Luca nodded. “If you are in a relationship where the boundaries are uncertain, it’s not appropriate to go too far too fast.”

“Thanks, Papa.” Luca was trying not to laugh at his father’s psychologist talk.

“It’s like a hotel,” said Marc when Massimo had left. “We are lucky, aren’t we? Didn’t we stay in another hotel together once? There was a huge TV and a racetrack.”

Luca’s jaw dropped. “Yes, it was at your lawyer’s villa!”

Marc frowned. “And wasn’t there a huge table of food somewhere?” His stomach rumbled.

“Yes, and we had a food fight and something went down your t-shirt and you had to take your jeans off.” Luca giggled at the memory.

“That does sound familiar—yes, I think you’re right.” He jumped up onto the bed and bounced on it in celebration, pulling Luca up too. They jumped around, making the springs creak until there was a loud knock on the door. 

Massimo’s voice came through. “Guys, I know you are two consenting adults in a relationship, but whatever you’re doing in there, can you stop it because you’re making the lampshades downstairs swing and plaster fall off the ceiling.”

“We’re only—” his son began, struggling to talk over his giggles.

“Shh! It’s inappropriate to discuss your sexual behaviour with anyone but your approved therapist. But please come downstairs as soon as you can—the guests are arriving, you must come and greet them.”

“O-okay, P-papa,” snorted Luca, and when Massimo’s footsteps retreated from the door, the couple burst out laughing and flopped down on the bed.

“Your Papa talks in psychobabble all the time,” giggled Marc.

“He does. He’s probably making notes every time you do anything.”

***

“Now you must let me look after you for a change,” said Marc, topping up Luca’s beer glass. “You are twenty and it’s a special number.”

Luca smiled as he reclined on a sofa, watching his friends and family talking, laughing, even some dancing in the large, neatly furnished lounge which led out onto a balcony one way and a dining room and kitchen the other.

“Who are all these people?” Marc flopped back next to him.

“That is my step sister Clara with her boyfriend.” He pointed at them, not caring if it was rude. “That is my stepfather who is her and Vale’s real father. That is Clara’s mother, who is my stepmother. That is my mother who is also Vale’s mother, and her latest husband, who is my stepfather. That is my father and his wife, who is my stepmother. That is my half-brother with his—”

“What? Stop! What are you talking about? How many relatives have you got?”

“Lots. It’s a big complicated family.” He giggled.

“I’ve only got one mother, one father and one brother, plus some aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents.”

“Count your blessings. It’s nice having a big tribe but Christmas gets complicated.”

Marc slumped, staring into his glass.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s so many people. It’s too much.”

“Oh no, come on, we can go somewhere quieter. Upstairs?”

But before they could leave, Alex brought his mother towards them through the crowd.

“Are you alright, darling?” said Roser immediately sitting next to Marc, who leant against her shoulder.

“I think he’s a bit overwhelmed,” said Luca in a rather slurred voice.

“Don’t talk for me, I can talk for myself,” snapped Marc.

Roser and Alex exchanged glances. “Come on, time for a break.” She and Luca ushered him to his bedroom for a rest while Alex explained to Massimo.

“Of course, of course,” said the Italian. “People with memory loss need a lot of time to process and cope with new events and situations. I’m sorry I didn’t think about that sooner.”

***

Luca was bored while Marc slept upstairs. He talked to all his relatives, and the Marquezes, and various friends but he kept looking round the room, feeling lost. Then his heart sank as Vale and Uccio stepped through the lounge door, having just arrived—Vale was still wearing his coat. Everyone turned to look at them, and Vale’s relatives hurried up, exclaiming with pleasure and excitement.

Of course, it wasn’t long before Vale cornered his brother in the kitchen, but Luca spoke before he could.

“So why are you visiting Marc in hospital?”


	11. Awkward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luca loses his cool. Marc just needs to stop talking.

“Well, you know,” said Vale. “I do feel guilty about the accident. I should have been more careful. I want to make it up to him. Uccio says I should—”

“Damn Uccio! You should think for yourself. Marc can’t remember much, so you mustn’t fill his head with your nonsense.”

“My nonsense, what do you mean?”

 _Oh god, am I now older than Vale as well as Marc, and have to explain everything to him too?_ He sighed. “I mean, don’t pretend Sepang 2015 didn’t happen. Marc can’t remember it, so don’t make him doubt himself. He has his opinion and you have yours.”

“But all I did at Sepang was tell the truth about the conspiracy, I—”

“Stop it! You’re not to tell him anything now he’s forgotten it. It’s not fair. Just talk about nice things. And also, don’t try to split me and Marc up. I know you don’t like us, so don’t take the opportunity to spoil it all!” Luca’s heart was pounding with the rush of daring to criticise his brother, who he’d idolised all his life—until his reaction to the relationship between himself and Marc. His adoration of Vale had taken a huge back-step then.

“I would never! I wouldn’t do that to you. But Luca, why don’t you just be friends with him? He can’t remember you, so you might as well start a new page of your life.” 

“I don’t want a new page! I want to stay on the same one!”

“But you’re so young. Both of you are so young. Why don’t you just accept what happened and move on? You’ll find someone else. Someone who remembers you.”

“You aren’t listening. You never listen. I want Marc, not someone else. It’s all your fault anyway, you made him crash.”

“No I didn’t. If I deliberately made him crash, I made myself crash and I wouldn’t do that, would I?”

“I don’t know. Probably not. But don’t mess with Marc’s head. It’s not fair, he’s vulnerable right now and you should be helping him, not influencing him.”

“Well okay. I won’t say anything to influence him.”

“Good.” Luca stared at him, then Uccio walked in.

“There you are,” said the big Italian. “There are some people who want to meet you, come along.” He ushered Vale out of the kitchen. Luca thought his brother didn’t look too happy but shrugged—Vale had made his bed, he must lie in it.

***

Luca wandered aimlessly back into the lounge, wondering if he should go and see if Marc was still asleep. At that moment, however, Marc appeared at the door from the stairs on the other side of the room. His hair was sticking up cutely at the back and he was rubbing his eyes, looking warm and sleepy. Luckily it seemed no one else had noticed him, so Luca weaved his way round the groups of people, avoiding those trying to talk to him or get him a drink or food, and reached Marc.

“Sleep well?” He hugged him and he was indeed all warm and cosy from his bed.

“I’d have slept better if you were there.” Unfortunately, at that moment there was a lull in conversation and music so everyone heard Marc’s comment. There was a burst of laughter, but when Luca looked round, his brother was not laughing but glaring instead.

Marc wondered why Vale was glaring. He was beginning to think maybe the tall Italian wasn’t his friend after all. Luca was evasive about the subject and Marc had heard enough hints and insinuations from various people to suspect something bad had happened between them before his accident. He stared at Vale and the broad man next to him wearing a baseball cap, then Vale smiled and both of them approached the couple.

“Hello Marc,” he said, holding out his hand. “You are looking much better.”

“Thank you.” Marc shook his hand, wondering who Vale’s companion was and why he was frowning at him.

“Oh, this is Uccio, my best friend.” Uccio held out his hand and Marc shook that too, thinking it felt a bit clammy.

The quartet chatted for a while about racing, Luca’s birthday, the weather, Massimo’s house, but Marc couldn’t put his finger on why he felt uncomfortable. He held tightly to Luca’s hand to reassure himself.

***

“Do you like Vale’s friend, Uccio?” he asked Luca later when they were in the dining room getting more drinks. Well, Marc was pouring out the drinks, Luca was flinging crisps up in the air and trying to catch them in his mouth, missing nearly every one.

“Er…he’s okay.”

“He—I—I dunno, he seems a bit creepy to me.” Marc felt he was being watched, so slowly turned his head to see Uccio staring at him, but the large Italian quickly looked away.

Luca noticed this. “He’s probably planning how he can spin your memory loss and our relationship to make you look bad and Vale look like an angel.” He laughed cynically.

“Really?” Marc thought for a while. “Why would he do that?”

“Uccio is like the guardian of Vale, he does all the marketing for him so always does everything he can to make him look good. And Vale doesn’t do anything without Uccio’s agreement. It gets awkward sometimes.” He fumbled in the crisp packet. “Here, catch this!” He threw a crisp at Marc’s mouth, but he missed it so Luca kept throwing more, making them both laugh hysterically.

Marc continued to think about what Luca had said, his gut twisting a little. _Something once happened between me and Vale, I’m sure of it. What had Luca said that time? Sepang 2015? It’s connected to that, I just know it._

***

Marc was tired by two a.m. so he and Luca swayed to their room and fell onto their beds.

“Have you had a good birthday?”

Luca lay gazing up at the bedroom ceiling. It was blue like the sky and made him think he was outside on a sunny day. He knew logically it was the early morning but he felt as if the sun was shining down on him after a satisfying day. Then he realised Marc had asked him a question. “Mm…what?”

“I said, have you had a good day?” Marc giggled.

“Yes, pretty good. Different to most birthdays.” Before Luca could say anything else, he felt a warm body wriggling into his bed and saw Marc cuddled up to him.

“So, Lucio, what was the best bit of the day?” Marc giggled too.

“Lucio?”

“What’s your name? Leandro? Leon? Luis? My memory’s even worse now I’m drunk.” He was still laughing.

Luca’s eyes widened.

“I’m joking.” Marc pinched his arm. “I know you are Luca.”

“Oh right.” Luca laughed. “What’s your name again? Mario, Maurizio or Michele?” They both laughed louder and louder, but there was so much noise elsewhere in the house—others laughing, noisy conversations, people singing, thumping music—that no one would have heard them. Then something occurred to Luca. “Marc, you are naked.”

“You noticed!”

“How did you get your clothes off so quick?”

Marc laughed naughtily. “That is the wrong question.”

“What?”

“The question is, why aren’t _you_ naked?”

Luca put his hands behind his head and waggled his eyebrows. Marc accepted the challenge and hauled his t-shirt with _I’m 20_ on it, over the blond head, then pulled his jeans down his legs.

“Now we’re both naked,” said Marc as he lay half propped up on the long, beautiful body. “Now do you want your birthday present?”

Getting a moan of acceptance, he leant forward and kissed him on the lips, then over his cheek to his neck and nibbled into it, making Luca arch up towards him, their bodies pressed tightly, hot, sweaty muscles sliding together. Marc moved his hand slowly down the lightly tanned chest and abs. He had just reached Luca’s hip when the Italian jolted.

“Oh fuck, Marc, shit!” The hot stickiness spurted out all over and Marc wriggled, trying not to fall off him onto the floor.

Luca was mortified. All the months of frustration and caution, trying to tiptoe around Marc without assuming too much, or even touching him but instead trying to take care of him and help his memory return, dealing with the media, his family, Marc’s family, his own feelings and now having drunk more than usual at the party—it was too much and his frustration all gushed out in a wave of release.

“Get off,” he mumbled, turning abruptly so Marc slid off to the side. He was flushed with embarrassment and felt like heat was radiating off him. _I’m not a stupid kid, why can’t I control myself?_

“It doesn’t matter, don’t worry, it’s not a competition,” Marc gabbled, unsure what to do or say. He thought for a moment, then began to say, “let’s just go to sleep,” then realised Luca had done exactly that and was snoring softly.

Marc subsided next to him, blaming himself. He sighed. _Why can’t everything just go back to normal where I know everything and we can be normal again? If Luca didn’t have to look after me all the time he wouldn’t get so stressed and upset like this._

He went to get some tissues and cleaned up as thoroughly as he could, then cuddled up to Luca, sighing deeply and cursing himself under his breath for being so stupid, unable to remember and a burden to everyone.

***

The next morning, Luca woke up to feel someone spooning round him. “Marc?” he said, realising he couldn’t remember much of the party. _Maybe I’m losing my memory too._ He laughed.

“Morning,” said a familiar voice and Luca turned to look at the speaker. Suddenly he did remember what had happened and drew away, frowning.

“Sleep well?” asked Marc.

“Yes, but…last night…” Blue eyes met brown for a second before sliding away.

“It’s alright. We shouldn’t let a little thing like that spoil everything.”

“A little thing? Thanks!”

“No, no, I didn’t mean that! I meant, these things happen—maybe we’re not ready for that yet.”

Luca shrugged and there was an uneasy silence.

Marc sat up abruptly, pointing at the alarm clock on the bedside table. “Oh my god! Look, it’s midday! We should get up.”

“Guess so.”

“Look, don’t worry about things. We’ll work it out.” He patted Luca’s arm. “Don’t let one drunken night spoil it all.”

“I don’t know, Marc, maybe we should just be friends. Take a break or something. I dunno. It’s just too difficult.”

“Oh.” Marc slumped back on the bed. “Oh. Okay. I didn’t think—well—if that’s what you want. But don’t worry about last night. Please don’t. We can just stay friends and I won’t touch you ever again if that’s what you want.”

“I want all or nothing—to be your boyfriend or not. I don’t want this never knowing where I am and wondering what to do and—”

“—taking care of me all the time. I see.” He gave a huge sigh. “Maybe we _should_ take a break.”

“I’ll stay here for a few weeks with my Papa if he doesn’t mind. I like it here.”

Marc thought about this—he wasn’t going to beg Luca to come back to Spain with him, he must let him do what he wanted. After a while he said, “but keep in touch, okay? I couldn’t bear it if you just disappeared out of my life.”

Luca smiled faintly and nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is going a different way to how I thought it would. These characters have minds of their own :/ But I have my Reasons for this situation...


	12. Two Families Make Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Various forces are working for and against our two heroes.

Luca didn’t know how long he would stay with his father for, but he couldn’t go back to Vale’s ranch. He’d sworn never to go back there after his brother had made his opinion clear about the relationship with Marc. Anyway, Massimo’s house was light, clean and quiet, totally different from the basic, noisy ranch and from the cosy, warm, rather cluttered home of the Marquez family.

It was a relief to get up every morning and not worry about whether Marc was alright and if he’d remembered or forgotten anything else. Luca spend his days training alone, or exploring the local area—his father lived in a coastal town with a long, golden beach. He loved walking along the sand when the tourists had left for the day, especially with his father’s two dogs bounding around him.

His father and step mother had two little daughters and they loved playing with their big half-brother, but they were so different to him that it was hard to find things in common with them. They went to ballet classes, they wore immaculate dresses with bows in their hair, they played with Barbie dolls—none of which Luca had ever done! The nearest he had got to playing with dolls was Lego, when he couldn’t go out riding his bike for whatever reason. The whole Marini house was immaculate and Luca felt like a giant stomping all over the place leaving a wake of mess and chaos.

The days began to drag and he was glad to go to his races every fortnight or so. But even then, it was odd coming home to a group of people who weren’t in tune with the racing life—he had no one to talk to about what happened in races, what his tactics should be, or celebrate a good result. His father was interested in racing but he led his own busy life of patient appointments, investigating case studies and travelling back and forth to the university where he worked. And his step mother ran a flower shop, so she was busy creating displays for weddings, birthdays, funerals all the time—she was usually rushed off her feet. She was grateful to Luca for taking his little sisters to school sometimes but rarely had time to talk.

So, when Luca got a text from Vale asking if he could come and visit him, he was overjoyed and replied immediately to say that he could. At last he could talk about racing to someone who understood exactly what he meant.

***

Vale arrived at ten in the morning on Wednesday. Luca was about to hug him when he saw Uccio following him through the door. He sighed. It wasn’t like Uccio was a total stranger, but he’d just hoped to have his brother to himself for once.

“Come in, sit down. Would you like coffee?” His two leather jacketed guests sat down on the grey modern sofa, looking rather out of place in the neat, minimalist lounge with the white carpet and small, expensive sculptures standing on various polished surfaces.

“Oh yes, please,” said Vale. 

“And do you have any cake?” asked Uccio. So Luca busied himself making the drinks and looking for anything he could offer his visitors to eat.

When they were settled with their coffee and cakes, and had moved past the pleasantries, Vale said, “Well I have to say I am glad you’ve split up with Marc. It wasn’t a good idea and wouldn’t have worked.”

“Split up?”

“Well you are here and he is there, so we thought—”

“H—how did you know he was back in Spain?”

“Well, I—er—I read that—”

“It’s on all the news sites,” interrupted Uccio smoothly. He made quote signs with his fingers. “ _Marc Marquez still in hospital after his accident._ So we assumed you’d split up.”

“No, we haven’t. We’re just on a break.”

“Oh. Well—anyway—why don’t you come back and live at the ranch?” said Vale. “You’d get on better there with your racing.”

Luca shrugged.

“And Luca, I didn’t want to tell you but—” He exchanged glances with his friend. “—Uccio has found out all sorts of things about Marc.”

“Like what?”

“It’s possible that he hasn’t really lost his memory, it may all be a trick to lure you into the plot he’s making against me.”

Uccio nodded but Luca frowned.

“But I know for sure he’s lost parts of his memory! There are years he can’t remember. And anyway, how would he fool the doctors?”

“It’s quite easy. Uccio researched cases of people pretending to lose their memories and it’s quite common. We think it’s all a plot by Marc and the other Spaniards to turn you against me and the VR46 team.”

Luca was still frowning. “I—I don’t believe you. Marc couldn’t remember me at all, at first, nor you. He also thinks you’re his friend, so why do you think he’s plotting against you? He also thinks he’s seventeen or eighteen and I’m older than him.”

Uccio chuckled. “It’s all a clever plan to fool you, Luca. Just think about it—Vale and I have been your friends since you were born. Who do you trust—us or your brother’s sworn enemy?”

They dropped the subject there and turned to less controversial topics, leaving Luca to mull over what they had said.

***

That evening, Luca cornered his father in the neat kitchen with black marble worktops and grey cupboard doors. “Papa, is it likely that Marc is just pretending he lost his memory?”

“What? Pass me those marinated tomatoes please.”

“It’s just that—people say—he’s making it all up to fool me.”

“WHAT?? What people?” 

“Well…Vale and Uccio.”

Massimo raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure they’re imagining it. Or pretending. Can you just pour out four hundred millilitres of that chicken stock for me? Thanks.” He stirred the sauce briskly. “But as regards your brother and his friend, as a psychologist, I have long suspected that both of them exhibit Narcissistic Personality Disorder. So they may have another agenda.”

“Are you sure? They were so convincing, they made me wonder. But I think Marc genuinely couldn’t remember me or lots of other people, even Vale. He was almost scared of me to start with and there are so many things he just doesn’t know.”

“Yes. I’ve spoken to Marc and I believe he does exhibit genuine signs of amnesia. Either that or he’s a very good actor. What do you think? Is he good at acting?”

Luca thought about it. “I wouldn’t say so. No, he isn’t.”

“So, what have I always taught you? Who are you going to believe? Your own senses or someone else’s perception?”

“Er—my own senses, I guess.”

“That is the healthy answer. And maybe you need to communicate more openly with Marc?”

“Yes. We’ve just been texting since he went back to Spain. Maybe I need to talk to him. Thanks, Papa.”

“Now can you stir this sauce for the next ten minutes? I need to put the girls to bed as Mama is working late.” Massimo smiled as he left his son to some thinking time.

***

In Spain, at last the doctors allowed Marc to leave hospital to go home. He could walk, run and balance normally—he was nearing his previous level of these activities and it was time to move on.

But when he got home, it wasn’t long before his parents and brother noticed he was moping around and not enjoying anything. So Alex decided to cross-examine him.

“So, Luca stayed in Italy and didn’t come back? What’s going on?”

Marc sighed. “Well…I dunno. Something—er—happened and it upset him and I think he just wants to be friends. It’s all too difficult with me not remembering anything.”

“Oh, that’s really—I’m so sorry, Marc.”

“I just don’t know what’s going on.”

“So…let’s do something fun instead. Mama has a really great idea, we’ll set it up for you.” He grinned and Marc smiled gratefully at him.

The doctors had recommended as much exposure to bikes and racing as possible and Marc was now strong enough to actually ride a real bike instead of simulators. So Roser’s idea was to book the track at Rufea for just Alex and Marc.

“I don’t think it would be sensible to have lots of riders on track, racing with Marc and maybe injuring him,” she explained to her younger son. “Or asking him questions and confusing him. You can imagine what would happen.”

Alex nodded. “They’d drive him mad with questions.”

“Why don’t we invite Luca to visit and go too? See if he can work it out with Marc. You know how he’s been sulking lately—maybe Luca will cheer him up.”

“Yes, maybe. Good idea, Mama.”

“Your father and I are just so glad to get Marc b—back.” Her voice wavered. “We thought he was d—dead after that accident. We don’t care if he has a b—boyfriend, as long as he’s alive and—and happy.”

Alex hugged her. “I know what you mean. So what if he likes Rossi’s brother. It’s the way it is.”

“He’s never done anything the same way as anyone else, has he?”

“No.”

“But you’re both unique and we’re glad we’ve got you both.” She hugged him tightly. “So, we’ll invite Luca and see what happens.”

“What are you two plotting?” asked Julia, striding into the room. “I won’t have secrets in this house.” So they told him of their plan.

“At least they’ve had a break and will know what they want now,” he said. “I can’t stand him brooding any longer, I’d rather anything but that.”

“Should we tell him if Luca wants to come?” said Alex. “Or just surprise him?”

“I think we should tell him—he’s had enough surprises lately. He doesn’t need any more.” Julia set his jaw.

***

“Marc, would you like to go to Rufea again?” said Roser one day as he was helping her unload the dishwasher.

“Rufea? The circuit?” Marc sat up. “I’ve been there before, haven’t I?”

“Yes, lots of times. I’ve booked it for you and Alex so you can avoid the crowds of people. And—”

“And what?”

“What if we invite Luca to go as well? He’d like Rufea and I know you’ve missed him.”

Marc realised his father and brother were lurking outside the kitchen.

“Do I have any choice?”

“Of course, dear,” said his mother. “But we know you’ve been miserable lately, why don’t you just see how it goes with Luca this time and then you’ll know one way or the other.”

“So I _don’t_ have a choice.” Marc was pouting and smiling at the same time.

“No,” said Julia, stepping into the room. “You always say to grab life with both hands, so follow your own advice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the Marini family details are totally made up, I have no idea where or how they live.


	13. Sweeter than an apple pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a lot of giggling.

In these days of texting and email, it was a surprise to receive a formal, carefully written card, so Luca was pleased to get an invitation to visit the Marquez family again. He’d seen Alex at the Moto2 races of course but rarely got to talk to him due to being busy with their different teams, so they’d just been limited to waving or smiling at each other.

He mulled over the card for a while. _I want to go and see him again, but what if he really has been pretending to lose his memory? What if I get there and realise I’ve been taken advantage of?_

He considered his options. He’d need a supporter if he returned to the Marquez household—who could he take? Most of his friends were riders, too involved in their own careers, and his father was too busy. The only rider he could ask was Balda—his team mate was the one he was closest to. Probably his best friend. If things went wrong at Marc’s house, Balda would support him and they could just come back home quickly.

“Do you think Marc is pretending he’s lost his memory?” he asked Balda when they next met at a circuit.

“What? No? Why would he? Where did you get that idea?”

“My brother and his friend suggested it.”

“Vale and Uccio? Why would they say that?”

Luca told him the whole story and his eyebrows rose higher and higher.

“What the fuck? What are they on?” he exclaimed after a stunned pause.

“I don’t know. How can we find out if he’s pretending or not?”

With the help of Google, Balda and Luca hatched a plan to test Marc.

***

Marc and Alex went to the airport to meet Luca from his flight.

“I’ve met him before at an airport, haven’t I?” Marc clutched his brother’s arm—luckily, they had just parked the car. “He was wearing a grey t-shirt.”

“Have you? When?”

“I don’t know. I had to drive to the airport to get him. He—he ran away from something. Or someone.”

“Was it when he ran away from Vale’s ranch and came to stay with you in Andorra?” Alex guessed. “I remember that!”

“That must be it. I feel like I’m remembering stuff now.”

“Good! That’s good. Come on, his flight should be here by now.”

They strode into the arrivals lounge, looking up at the incoming flights board.

“There he is!” Marc clutched his brother’s arm. “Who’s that with him?”

Alex squinted at the pair. “I think it’s Balda. That is, Lorenzo Baldassarri, his team mate. He’s brought reinforcements.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Luca and Balda approached the Marquez brothers. Luca was wearing a black t-shirt which brought out the ice blue of his eyes and made his hair look very blond.

“Hey,” said Alex, and introduced the new visitor to Marc.

“I hope it’s okay for me to come too,” said Balda. “I’ll only stay a few days if that’s alright with your mother.”

“Oh. Yes—er—yes it’s fine.” Alex saw Marc and Luca were gazing at each other, so he added, “Want to see my car? It’s new.”

“Oh yes.” Balda followed him towards the exit, leaving the other two lagging behind.

“So,” said Luca to Marc. “Have you remembered anything else since I’ve been away?”

“Little bits, here and there. I haven’t forgotten you, if that’s what you’re worried about?” He smiled.

Luca couldn’t help smiling back. “I’m sorry I ran away.”

“But you’re back now.” Marc’s smile increased into a grin. “Can I hug you?”

“Yes, of course.”

They hugged awkwardly.

“So, we are going to a track?” 

“Yes. I’m going to ride a proper bike at last!” Marc couldn’t stop staring at him. As most people in the airport lounge couldn’t—the tall, blond and handsome Italian was very striking among the mostly dark haired Spaniards.

“Come on!” called Alex in the distance, so they walked together towards him, almost tripping over obstacles in their way as they were both afflicted with the same staring condition.

***

At dinner it was the same. Marc and Luca couldn’t take their eyes off each other, to the amusement of Alex and Balda, who couldn’t stop laughing.

“It is very nice to see you again, Lorenzo,” said Roser to Balda. “I hope your season is going well?”

“Yes, very well thank you, Senora Marquez,” he replied, stifling a giggle.

“Please pass the salt, Marc,” she said. “Marc? Marc! The salt?”

“Oh, sorry Mama.” He waved the salt cellar vaguely in her direction and she took it by luck more than design.

“I thought we could show Lorenzo the sites of Cervera, as the evening is still light. We could start with the museum.”

“I’d like to go there and see the Marquez room,” said Balda. “See if I can pick up some racing tips.”

Alex laughed.

“You don’t need to go, Marc,” Roser continued. “I’m sure you know enough about yourself. And Luca doesn’t have to go either if he doesn’t want to.”

Even Julia smiled at her obvious matchmaking.

“We’ll clear up after dinner,” said Marc, glancing at his mother for a second before his glance slid back to Luca like a magnet. “Won’t we?”

“Yes and you can have a chat while doing that,” she said encouragingly.

Alex and Balda snorted.

“Stop laughing, they need time to talk.”

“Yes, they’ll have a nice _talk_ ,” sniggered Alex. “I’m sure.”

“What’s the matter with you and Lorenzo this evening? Really! You’re like giggling school boys.”

***

“Sorry about them,” said Marc as they waved the others off in the car. “They’re so obvious. But we better get on with the clearing up.” He led the way to the dining room and began clearing up the plates and cutlery.

“So, are you nervous about riding a bike again?”

“Of course not, I’m really excited.”

Luca took a deep breath, ready to say what he’d practiced with Balda, after they’d looked it up online. _I have to know the truth. Surely Vale and Uccio wouldn’t lie to me, would they?_

“Just try not to have an accident again, you must take care. We don’t want you ending up like Salom and Simoncelli.” He and Balda had decided to use the _dead/alive test_ , which shows whether the subject recognises whether a famous person is still alive or dead, and if they know the circumstances of the death.

“Salom and Simoncelli? Why, what happened to them?” Marc was staring at him.

“Can’t you remember? I mean, don’t you know?” Luca already felt bad about doing this to him. 

“What? No, what happened? Tell me!”

“They both died on track.” He watched Marc, his gut churning.

“What?! They—what? When?” Marc sat down on the nearest chair, his face going white.

“Sic died in 2011, Salom last year. I mean 2016 by that.”

“What? Th—that’s awful. God, that’s awful. Sic was amazing, he would’ve—he would’ve been fighting me in MotoGP. Fuck.” He had tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry I had to tell you. When we go to the MotoGP tracks again I thought you might find out so, it’s better I told you first.” _I hate lying to him, why did I let Vale get to me? He and Uccio are totally wrong. How could they be so cruel?_ Marc looked like a kicked puppy, so he stepped forward and hugged him, mumbling, “I’m sorry,” again.

“I’ve missed you, Luca,” he said, holding him tightly. “I’m sorry for whatever I did to make you leave.”

“You didn’t do anything. I just needed a break and to realise how boring my life is without you.”

Marc looked up with his big brown eyes and Luca was lost. He leant down and pressed his lips to Marc’s, and pushed him back against the wall of the dining room. He kissed him til he could hardly breathe and Marc was pulling at his hair.

“I’m sorry I stayed in Italy,” he gasped. “I was an idiot.”

“No, no, you weren’t. You were just overwhelmed.” Marc grinned into his face and kissed him. “Do you want to—” He jerked his head in the vague direction of his bedroom.

“If you are sure.”

“Yes, Luca, yes! Stop worrying!”

They made their way to Marc’s room, bumping into the furniture and the walls and tripping over rugs and doorstops on the way because they couldn’t stop kissing, looking at and touching each other.

***

A long while later, they were cuddling up together in a hot and sticky bed. Clothes lay all over the floor alongside Marc’s upturned bedside lamp.

“Mm…you spoil me,” mumbled Marc, his tickly warm breath against Luca’s neck making him giggle. “I’m in heaven.”

“Not literally, I hope.” Luca’s giggles turned into coughs.

“Whatever’s made you cough like that?”

“I wonder…”

“If you will put strange things in your mouth…”

Luca laughed even more. “Well if you don’t want me to cough, you know the answer…”

“No, no, no! Don’t change anything! You’re a god,” he grinned, stroking Luca’s chest. “A love god.” He giggled.

“Stop it, you’re making me blush.”

“Well, what am I to say? I’m saying I loved it, _idiota_.” He flicked Luca’s chest with his finger. “It was like switching me on again.”

“Who are you calling _idiota?_ ” They began tickling each other and nearly fell off the bed wrestling.

A door shut loudly somewhere else in the house.

“Oh shit, my parents!”

“Does your Mama really think we’re just _talking?_ ”

“I’m sure she was just being tactful. She likes to keep up appearances.”

Someone knocked on the bedroom door. “It’s Alex. If you’re in there, better come out quickly as we’re having drinks in the garden.”

The lovers exchanged glances and rolled out of bed.

***

When they had showered in Marc’s ensuite bathroom, they sat on the bed, all fresh and clean smelling. They could hear Roser, Julia, Alex and Balda outside, their voices and laughter coming in drifts through the open louvre part of the window.

“Let’s not go out to them just yet,” said Marc. “I’ll get some drinks for us.” While he was gone, someone knocked on the bedroom door, so Luca opened it cautiously to see Balda.

“Sorry to interrupt. I saw Marc going into the kitchen, so I thought it would be okay.”

“Come in.” They sat on the bed, as there was only one armchair in the room.

“So how did it go?” he asked. “Did you learn anything?”

“How did what go?” Luca replied nervously.

“The memory test. Is he faking or real?”

“Oh, that! He’s real.” He sighed. “It was awful, he was upset to hear about Salom and Sic. I hated telling him.”

Balda frowned. “Your brother and Uccio are so devious. I didn’t realise til now.”

“I know. I don’t ever want to go back to the ranch—how could they do that to me and him?”

“Ready to suck on the Marc lolly again?” Marc came bounding into the room holding bottles of mineral water and cola, then skidded to a halt when he saw the other Italian. “Oh, hello, Balda—er—I—meant—”

Luca tried to glare at him but was too busy suppressing his laughter. “Yes, Balda and I were just—er—talking about—er—your museum in the town.”

Balda’s eyebrows were up to his hairline. “Well—er—anyway, I’ll leave you—er—to it. Alex said come out into the garden when you’re ready.”

When he’d gone, Marc and Luca burst into giggles.

“I think you shocked him. I’ve never seen him shocked before,” said Luca. “Well played.”


	14. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very long chapter, I was going to cut it in two but changed my mind.

Two days later Alex drove his car to Rufea, with Marc sitting in the front seat and Luca and Balda folded awkwardly into the back seat, as it was only a short journey.

“We’re nearly there, aren’t we?” Marc kept saying excitedly, looking this way and that, and trying to stick his head out of the window like a dog.

“Don’t do that!” snapped Alex. “You’ll lose your head.”

Marc laughed and sat back.

They drew up at the track and almost before Alex had put on the handbrake, Marc jumped out and ran off towards the bikes, his crash helmet on his arm. The track employees exclaimed in delight, calling out, “hello Marc!” and some took photos of him.

The other three riders hastened out of the car too and ran after him. They found him embracing his number 93 dirt bike in the shelter where they were all kept. Marc and Alex had their own numbered bikes as they were so famous and visited so often.

“This is my bike!” he exclaimed. “Isn’t it? My number is 93.”

“Yes!” the other three said at the same time.

Marc stood up and circled the bike, frowning. “There’s something wrong with it. What is it? It looks like my bike but it isn’t.” He wrung his hands.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Luca said quickly, rushing to hug him. “You’re thinking of your MotoGP bike, it looks different to this one.”

“Oh yes, of course. How stupid of me.”

They smiled at each other, starry eyed, whereas Alex and Balda rolled their eyes.

“Stop calling yourself stupid. You can still ride it.” Luca stroked Marc’s back.

Marc looked up at him and something kindled in his eyes. “You are Luca Marini, number 10. You used to be 97 but Xavi Vierge had that already so you had to change to 10.”

“Yes! That’s right!”

“And my team mate’s number is 26 and your brother’s is 46.” Marc’s eyes were wide. “And the reason I’m 93—the reason is—the reason—I was born in 1993 and the reason you were 97 is because you were born in 1997. So you _are_ four years younger than me!” He was a little out of breath now, but grinning at Luca.

The Italian was just as excited. “Yes! Yes! You got all those right!” He hugged Marc even tighter, stroking his hair until Alex coughed pointedly.

“Just to say, we’ve only got this track for two hours, so…”

They separated, smiling, and Marc turned to his bike, putting his helmet on. He wheeled it out of the rack, climbed on and rode off before his companions could say anything else.

Luca, Balda and Alex exchanged glances, shrugged and grabbed three bikes so they could follow him. Alex had his own bike of course, but the Italians just took the nearest ones.

Marc rode easily away from his pursuers and they chased him for a while on the dry, dusty track. Of course, eventually they caught him, then followed tentatively, not wanting to risk making him crash. They watched how he rode—the same old Marc Marquez throwing himself around more and more as he became more confident.

The trio caught his confidence and soon they dared to ride up to him and fight with him—not the fairing bashing, shoving him off track type of battle, but just the _hey, I’m here, I won’t be ignored type._

They were all laughing and shouting more and more as they rode, and the circuit workers came one by one to stand at the side of the track watching admiringly, some clapping, some whistling.

Time flew by as the riders were having so much fun, they all got covered in dirt and dust and their helmet visors became almost opaque within half an hour.

After their booked time at the track ran out, the quartet got off their bikes and strolled to the refreshment area for cold drinks and snacks.

“Balda and I need to talk to someone,” said Alex, and they sauntered off, leaving the other two alone.

“This is the best day I’ve had since the accident,” exclaimed Marc, gulping a huge amount of cola from his cup. “I want to go to the MotoGP tracks next and practise riding my bike again and see who I remember and—”

Luca beamed. “Yes! We can do that! The season isn’t over yet. Everyone asks me and Alex about you when we go to Moto2 races, they all miss you and want to see you back there.”

“Excuse me, can I have your autograph?” A couple of track workers had brought their young sons, aged about six, up to the table.

“Of course,” said Luca. Both riders signed the offered photos of themselves, smiling. They even posed for photos with the little boys.

***

After Marc and Luca had finished their drinks, they went to sit outside on the grass in the sun, enjoying watching the other riders who’d booked the track after them. They chose a secluded spot away from prying eyes, and sat leaning on each other, muddy, aching but happy. As they sat in silence, too tired to do anything but say the odd word, Luca idly ran his fingers through the dry grass stalks and pulled some up. He turned and took his lover’s hand, twisting it this way and that.

“What are you doing?” Marc laughed, then looked down to see a plaited grass bracelet encircling his wrist.

“My sister taught me how to plait. We should both have one, to show we’re a couple.”

“But I can’t plait anything, I haven’t got any sisters.”

“You can try.” He held out some long grass stems and Marc fiddled with them, doing his best and eventually produced a coarse, uneven bracelet, wider than the one Luca had made.

“Will this do? It’s a bit rubbish.”

“It’s just right, it makes me think of you.”

“You mean like I’m rough and untidy, but yours is elegant and perfect like you?” He fluttered his eyelashes.

Luca smiled. “No, I mean it’s real and genuine. What you see is what you get with Marc Marquez.”

Marc grinned into his face and kissed him, not caring if anyone saw.

***

Every morning, the Marquezes sat down together for breakfast, and Luca was starting to feel like one of the family. It wasn’t the usual Italian meal he was used to but he had grown to like the savoury foods instead of the sweet ones he ate at home. 

_Home. Now where exactly is that these days? It's not Vale’s ranch for sure. It’s not my Mama’s house with her newest husband. It’s not my Papa’s house with my little half-sisters. Being here in Cervera with Marc and his family feels more and more like home._

Unfortunately, his reverie was broken abruptly.

“What the hell?” shouted Julia, lifting his morning newspaper up in the air as everyone else stopped eating to look at him. “This shouldn’t be allowed! Phone Carlos at once! It’s disgraceful!”

“Whatever is it?” asked Roser, putting down her bread roll.

“That man! He and his friend!” Julia was so angry he found it hard to get his words out.

“What man?”

Butterflies began to dance in Luca’s stomach.

“Valentino Rossi and his friend! They’ve published photos of Marc riding at Rufea with accusations that he is only pretending he’s lost his memory! Disgusting! He should be shot! They should both be hung! They should be—”

“Julia! Remember our guest!” snapped Roser.

“It’s alright,” said Luca. “He’s already told me he thinks Marc is faking amnesia.”

There was a loaded pause, then everyone shouted, “what?” and stared at him.

“He’s been trying to turn me against Marc for months. I’ve been putting him off. He even nearly convinced me that Marc was faking, but I know he isn’t.” He took Marc’s hand firmly.

“B—but you said he was my friend!” Marc’s eyes were wide.

“I—I was trying to protect you. I couldn’t believe he’d be so cruel. But I was wrong. He’s a bastard!” He thumped the table with his fist.

“So why did he come and visit me, and pretend to be my friend? I admired him, he was my MotoGP hero.” Marc was half tearful, half angry.

“It was because of Sepang 2015.” Luca sighed. “Want me to tell you what happened?”

“Oh yes,” interrupted Julia. “We’d like to hear _your_ version of it!”

“Vale thought Marc was interfering with the race at Phillip Island that year because Uccio pointed it out to him. Of course at the time, I believed them because I had no reason not to. My big brother and his friend had never harmed me, so I thought they were right about everything. But Vale accused Marc of the Phillip Island thing when we got to Sepang, and he then fought him on track, you’ll remember that of course. That crash looked so suspicious to me, it made me doubt him. Vale, I mean, not Marc.”

He gulped some water to refresh his mouth, then continued. 

“So Vale was punished for making Marc crash, and ended up starting from last place at Valencia. I thought this was right because you don’t make another rider crash like that, however much you hate him. That’s terrible.” He turned to Marc. “So obviously, he was too far back to win the championship and he blamed you for it. Then at the end of the year, you and I met at some riders’ party, I can’t remember where it was, but I wondered what you were like. Vale talked about you as if you were the devil and went on and on about how scheming and sly you were, but I just thought…so many people liked you that you couldn’t be that bad. So we talked and became friends and then lovers, and…” He held up his hands. “Everyone knows the rest. But Luis Salom’s death last year made you and Vale put your argument in the past and move on. Or so I thought, but he’s still looking for ways to get back at you. The truce was false.” 

He took a deep breath after pouring all this out. Everyone at the table was staring at him, but he had more to say.

“So obviously when you and I got together, he assumed you were trying to upset him again and caused an accident with you at Le Mans, then when you lost your memory, he thought you were pretending in some other scheme against him. Although it’s Uccio who’s doing the scheming but it’s against you. Uccio is the one to blame. I know Vale’s part of it but I think Uccio’s behind it all. My brother is totally taken in by that man.”

Marc’s expression had become darker and darker throughout this speech, as had his father’s and Alex’s. Luca wondered whether he’d get out of the room alive as they were all staring at him like cats about to pounce. He wished Balda hadn’t gone back to Italy to see his girlfriend—he needed support right now.

“What a paranoid loser your brother is,” Marc snapped. “Listening to that Uccio and blaming me for everything.” He stood up, pushed back his chair with a crash, and strode out of the room.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t tell him about Vale and Uccio’s scheming because I didn’t want to upset him. I thought it would all blow over but now this.” Luca pointed to the newspaper. “God knows what it’ll be like online.”

“It’s not your fault, son,” said Julia, although he was frowning. “If anyone asks us about this, we’ve got all the medical proof we need that Marc isn’t faking.”

Just then, the phone rang and they all turned to look at it. “That’s probably a journalist now,” said Julia, then turned to his wife. “Call Carlos.”

***

Later, Luca was sitting outside in the garden, despite the air being cooler now as autumn was drawing on. He didn’t know if the Marquezes would even talk to him again so he sat on the bench, so quietly that little birds and animals began running around him, not noticing the human watching them. They scattered, however, when another human came strolling out to the garden.

“So you kept all that to yourself and didn’t tell him?” asked Alex. “He thought Vale was his friend and you didn’t tell him the truth?”

“I thought it was for the best. I thought they’d make friends and forget all about Sepang.” Luca sighed. “I don’t know what to do, I’m not a doctor, I’m not used to dealing with people with memory loss.”

Alex sat on the bench with him, making him shuffle up. “Well it was a kind idea, but the truth always comes out in the end. Me and Papa looked on the internet, the story is all over it. _MARQUEZ FAKES MEMORY LOSS!_ And all the versions of that headline.”

“Where is he now?”

“He’s gone for a walk with Mama. They walk round the lake together a lot and talk, she loves having us both at home and likes to spend time with each of us.”

“I’ve only had texts from my Mama, she is so caught up with her newest husband, or Vale’s injuries, or whatever.”

“Well, you’ve got us. We’re kind of like your in-laws.” Alex patted his arm. “He’ll come back from the lake all tired, but with a plan. You’ll see.”

***

“This is what we’re going to do,” said Marc that evening. Alex made an _I told you so_ face at Luca. “I want to go back to the MotoGP races and firstly, see my real bike and meet everyone again. Secondly, I will prove to Vale, Uccio and every other fucking prick who disbelieved me, that I am genuine.”

“How will you do that?” asked Luca.

“Just by being myself. I don’t recognise people easily anymore. I’ll have to take it slow riding my bike—”

“Please be careful!” interrupted Roser. “Take it very slow at first, we don’t want you to get injured again and—”

“Let the boy speak,” said Julia, stroking her arm.

“I will take it slow but I will get faster, Mama.” Marc’s eyes flashed with determination. Luca had never seen him wearing that cold, hard expression before but he knew it was caused by hurt. “I will prove myself to the world.”


	15. Going to the races

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marc returns to the track.

The Marquez family and Luca got ready to go to the next race together, which luckily was Aragon, their home round. It was only a two-hour journey to the circuit, so they were driving there in a luxury SUV. The car belonged to Marc, but was now in Cervera thanks to the kindness of the Espargaro brothers, who had driven it there from Andorra. 

“Marc should get a good reception in Aragon. Or at least, a more favourable one than somewhere like Mugello,” said Rosa as she dragged her wheeled suitcase out to the car.

“It just depends on how many homophobic idiots there are,” said Julia as he loaded everything into the boot with the boys’ help.

Luca and Alex both made noises of impatience and annoyance.

“God, Papa, are people still talking about that!” exclaimed Alex. “If that’s the thing they’re worried about rather than Marc’s injury, they should be banned from the race!”

“I hope they will be. They’ll come after me too if they’re like that,” said Luca, and Marc rubbed his arm reassuringly.

“We’ll all be there protecting both of you,” said Alex. “And also, Santi, Dani, Balda and all your team members when we get there.”

“Will we be safe travelling by car?” asked Rosa, wringing her hands.

“Yes, Mama,” said Marc. “Normal people don’t care about us, it’s just the paddock ones who are obsessed with my sex life.”

Rosa gasped and Julia said loudly, “are those all the bags for the car?” while Luca and Alex stifled their giggles.

***

As they drove up to the circuit, Marc looked all round out of every window. 

“I’m back again,” he said. “Do you think people will remember me?”

“Of course!” said Luca, squeezing his hand. “They won’t forget the five-time world champion, will they?”

“Oh yes, I forgot that. Five championships.” He beamed. “I hope they’ll let me ride my bike again, I’ve missed her. I’m 93 and my team mate is 26. I’ll see if I remember any of the other bikes, I’m sure I will…” He continued babbling with excitement while Luca wondered if Vale would show up to greet them. How would he react to his devious big brother this time?

It was lucky he was used to travelling with Vale and getting the ‘rock star’ reaction every time they went anywhere, because although at first the SUV crept towards the paddock anonymously, the word soon got around that Marc Marquez had arrived.

People gathered at the sides as the car moved along the paddock and towards the motorhome park. The windows were fortunately blackened so they couldn’t see in, but the cheering, shouting and a few jeers grew outside and security officers had to link arms to hold the fans back.

Julia was driving and he had to come to an almost complete stop a few times when followers ran out in front of the vehicle waving banners or just throwing themselves at it.

“Most of them seem friendly,” said Alex. “Hopefully they are just so pleased to have you back that they’ve forgotten to be homophobic jerks.”

“Hopefully,” said Marc. “But I can’t even remember what they said about me and Luca so I’m okay.” He was smiling out at people even though they couldn’t see him, and his family smiled back, delighted to see him happy. “I feel like I’m back in my natural environment, like a wild animal or something.”

Everyone laughed. The SUV finally turned the corner to the motorhome park and the fans were left behind.

***

After parking at Marc’s motorhome, which Repsol team members had driven to the track, and unloading the luggage, the family walked to the Repsol garage with him. They hesitated at the entrance, but Santi hurried out to speak to them.

“You can all come in, even Luca and Alex. Livio says due to the extraordinary circumstances, he’ll allow two Moto2 riders into the garage.”

Marc was looking curiously at him. 

“This is Santi,” said Luca. “Remember, we spoke to him online and you had a conversation with him.”

“Of course I remember,” exclaimed Marc. “I’m not stupid.”

“I know you’re not, I was just reminding you.”

The rotund, bearded man waited for Marc to approach him.

“Hello Marc. How are you?” he asked with a smile, but Luca could see it was covering deep emotion.

“I’m well, how are you?” Marc hesitated for a second, then stepped forward and hugged his crew chief. “You look like yourself in your uniform, Santi.”

Santi couldn’t speak for a few moments and Luca noticed his eyes were watery.

“It’s so great to have you back.” Santi’s voice was shaky but he was obviously hiding his feelings from the young rider. “You can try your bike again and do some practice, do whatever you want.”

Marc stepped back. “It’ll go well, don’t worry. We’ll be a good team again, won’t we?” He bumped fists with his crew chief and they smiled at each other.

Julia and Roser had their arms round each other, watching the son they thought they’d lost, slowly return to them.

“Here’s Dani,” said Alex.

“Hi Marc.” The little Spaniard cautiously stepped towards him. “How are you?” He smiled.

“Dani! Your number is 26.” Marc grinned proudly.

“Yes! Guess I look a bit different in my race suit than I did visiting you in hospital?”

“Yes, you look very bright now.” Marc laughed, pointing at the orange Repsol suit. “Dazzling, I need sunglasses.”

Everyone else laughed with relief.

“You remember Jorge and Dovi? They’re outside, they aren’t allowed in here.” Dani led Marc and Luca outside the Repsol garage to find the two Ducati riders lurking by their own garage.

“Have I met them before?” asked Marc. “Everyone looks different in their race suits.” He clutched at Luca’s hand.

“Yes,” said Dani. “This is Dovi, or Andrea Dovizioso, which is his proper name.”

“Hello Marc,” said Dovi, holding out his hand. “Do you remember me visiting you in hospital? Nice to see you again. You look well.”

“Thanks. Now let me think of your racing number.” Marc went into one of his thinking modes, pausing with his glance far into the distance for a few moments, like he’d deactivated himself. “No, I’m sorry, I can’t remember.”

“It’s four. Don’t worry, you’ll remember it all soon.”

“What about me?” asked Jorge excitedly. “What number am I? Think of the name Jorge Lorenzo and you might see it in your mind’s eye.”

Marc stared at him. “I want to say 48 but that isn’t right, is it?”

“That’s amazing,” gasped Jorge. “That’s my old number, I changed it some years ago. Can you remember what to?”

A group of people were gathering around the riders, waiting with baited breath.

“Hm…no.” He sighed.

“It’s 99,” said Jorge gently, not wanting Marc to feel stupid.

“Oh.” Marc slumped.

“Don’t worry,” said Luca. “It’s overwhelming coming back here. It’s a bit too much even for me.” 

Julia, Roser and Alex all made agreeing noises.

Luca put his arm round Marc and gave him a sideways hug. “Let’s go back into Repsol.” 

Dani nodded and escorted the couple back inside, gesturing for everyone else to give them some space.

“I need to see the bikes again,” said Marc determinedly. “They’ll help me remember.”

Exchanging hopeful glances, Luca and Dani followed him as he galloped into the Repsol garage. Santi and another crew member wheeled his 93 bike out from where it had been kept in storage, waiting for its rider to return.

His footsteps slowed as he approached his bike, sitting there gleaming, almost twinkling in the light. He gasped and fell to his knees. “My princess! I’m so sorry I left you!” He flung his arms around the front of the orange bike and hugged her.

Luca felt his eyes growing wet and blinked rapidly. He glanced down at Dani, who was also blinking a lot. Marc seemed to be having a conversation with his bike, sitting on the hard ground next to her, running his hands over the engine, the tyres, the handlebars and everything else, but especially the number 93 on the front.

The Repsol mechanics were sidling up to the place where Marc and his bike were conversing, and Luca noticed other Repsol staff too, wearing business suits and ties, so they were surely not people who usually worked in the garage. Luca turned to see some of the riders—Jorge and Dovi of course, but also Maverick, Rins, the Espargaros, Cal—at the back of the crowd, watching the scene fondly. Aleix had one arm round his brother and the other round Maverick. Every person there looked as emotional as Luca himself felt, with the occasional wiping of their eyes, sniffing, blinking tears away.

Dani tapped him on the arm. “Isn’t it great to see him back in the garage again?”

“I never thought we’d make it this far, to be honest.”

“He’ll soon be back riding his bike, you’ll see.” The little Spaniard hugged the tall Italian, which probably looked very odd, but neither of them cared.

“Ah, Luca,” said Aleix, stepping towards him. “Nice to see you.” He offered his hand and after a minute, Luca shook it. “I just wanted to say that none of us take any notice of what the media says and we just hope you and Marc are very happy together.” 

Pol was standing next to him, nodding and smiling, and the other riders had also moved closer. One by one, they shook Luca’s hand and gave him a message of support.

“I’m glad you didn’t take any notice of people criticising you.” Rins also gave Luca a hug as they knew each other from Moto2.

“It’s good to see Marc looking well. He’ll be back fighting with us soon,” said Maverick.

“I hope you and Marc will stay very happy.” Dovi gave his usual shy smile.

“He’ll soon be racing us, we better watch out,” said Jorge, giving a thumbs-up sign.

“Stay strong, mate, and don’t let them get you down.” Cal patted Luca on the back as well as shaking his hand.

“We were hoping he could do a grid walk later and look at the all bikes,” muttered Dani to Luca while the other riders chatted and admired Marc and his bike.

“He’d love that.” Luca smiled.

“Why don’t you go to your own team for a while? I can tell him where you’ve gone and look after him for a little while. Say for an hour? Alex is here too and his parents so he won’t feel like he doesn’t know anyone.”

“Thanks, mate.” He patted Dani’s arm. “I could do with a break really.”

“I know. It must be exhausting being with someone who has a dodgy memory, I can imagine.”

***

Luca strolled to his own Moto2 garage, feeling a little relieved at leaving Marc in someone else’s care for a change, but also feeling guilty for even thinking like that. Marc wasn’t a burden, he was just not the Marc he’d known at the beginning. But he put his thoughts aside as he entered the familiar setting, with the usual people and the smells of oil and rubber, the loud, sudden revs of engines which equally suddenly fell silent.

He stood at the doorway for a few minutes watching the scene, then the first person who noticed and came to greet him was his mother.

“My darling!” she cried. “I’m so sorry I’ve neglected you, I was so caught up with Vale, and with my new husband. I won’t neglect you again.” She flung her arms round him and hugged him until he thought he’d suffocate.

“Ah there you are,” said Luca’s father, hurrying up. “Let him breathe, Stefania.”

She released her son, and he gasped.

“Sorry darling,” she said, then the trio giggled at how she’d nearly squashed the breath out of him.

“Where’s—er—where’s Vale?” he asked.

“Oh! I don’t know, actually. He must be around somewhere. He’s usually with Uccio isn’t he.”

“Hm…yes.”

“But never mind them. We’ll go to have lunch—just you, me and your father. You can tell me all about what’s been happening.”

Luca exchanged glances with Massimo, who shrugged. Luca knew it meant he was wondering why Stefania was suddenly so concerned about his business. Had Vale been telling her of his suspicions that Marc was lying?

“Ah, there you are, mate!” said Balda, striding up and giving him a hug. “Great to see you.” Luca relaxed when he saw his friend, especially as his crew chief came for a hug too. It all felt nice and natural again—he was back in his team garage and Marc was back in his, rather than being left behind at home—maybe things were going back to normal at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I got a bit distracted away from this story and it kind of fizzled out for a while, but I decided just to keep writing and see what happened!


	16. Falling Apart or Coming Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rollercoaster continues.

“Before the race, we thought it would be good to go on a lap of honour round the track to see your fans,” said Santi to Marc as they sat in the Repsol hospitality area with Julia and Roser. “They’d love to see you in person again. They’ve missed you.”

“Have they? Who’ll be with me?”

“Me, Dani, a few of the other crew members. You won’t be on your own.”

“What about Luca? Will he be there too? I know people don’t approve of my relationship with him, so what if they shout at him?”

“Well, we decided Luca should be with his own team for now because we don’t want to encourage hostility.” Santi eyed him warily, not sure how he would react.

“But that isn’t fair! We shouldn’t have to hide away, we should go out together in public normally. They all know about us, it’s not like it’s a secret anymore.”

Santi chewed his lip. “But also, this is all about you, Marc Marquez, returning to MotoGP, not anyone else. You deserve to be in the limelight on your own. If Luca is there, the focus will all be on _the gay couple in MotoGP_ , not your amazing recovery from a serious injury. Now _that_ wouldn’t be fair, would it?”

“I guess not. I do really want to see what happens when the fans see me again. I can work out what the reaction is to me and Luca from them.” Marc nodded determinedly at his crew chief and folded his arms. “I’m not going to pretend it’s not happening just for the sake of my image or some old-fashioned image of what MotoGP riders should be like.”

***

All the other riders were in their garages getting ready for the races now, so Marc’s lap of honour would be a nice distraction for the spectators before the Moto3 race.

The vehicle they were to travel in was a trailer on the back of a small lorry, decorated in Repsol colours and logos. The sides were covered so the crowd would only see the top halves of the group. The lorry started off parked in the pitlane, and as Marc climbed aboard, he noticed security guards with headsets, one standing at each corner. This made him feel a little nervous but he gritted his teeth.

“Santi?” He grabbed his crew chief by the arm. “Luca is safe, isn’t he? People won’t hurt him to get to me, will they?”

“Of course he’s safe. Rossi put his own security guards with his brother today—he was worried about his safety too.”

“Oh. Right. Well, that’s something.”

Just after Dani and his crew chief climbed onto the trailer, the lorry set off. In total, there were ten people on board, which was a nice number- not so many as to be overwhelming but not so few that Marc would feel vulnerable. Marc didn’t know many of the people with him but they were friendly and obviously knew him, so he felt fairly relaxed.

“I’m here, I’ll stay with you,” said Dani, patting his arm. “I won’t let anything bad happen.”

Marc smiled at his team mate, but felt a bit irritated at being treated so carefully by everyone. But as long as Luca was safe and he could see him after this lap, he could cope.

“The 2016 champion, Marc Marquez, is joining us today after recovering from his serious accident!” announced the commentator through the loudspeaker and people began cheering and blowing airhorns.

The lorry drove very slowly along, even more slowly at the corners in case it tipped over. The security guards watched the crowd continuously, eyes scanning for any dangerous behaviour, but the crowd were just cheering, waving 93 placards and flags, and some were letting off orange and red smoke bombs, but no one threw anything.

Then Marc and Santi, who were looking in the same direction, saw the banner reading, QUEERS GO HOME! It was being held up by a group of men dressed in black, who were gesturing and jeering at everyone on the Repsol lorry. Some of the younger crew members did the same in return, but the senior ones quickly told them to stop.

Dani turned and made a face of horror at Santi, and Emilio went to talk to the security officer, who was already speaking into his microphone. The lorry drove a little faster, and Marc clutched at the railing while Dani clutched at his arm.

As the lorry passed the black clad men, they chanted, “queers go home!” over and over again. Marc drew back a little and his team mates huddled round him, muttering words of support. The spectators round the homophobes shouted, “Marquez! Marquez!” and some got into brawls with their enemies. Suited security guards were forcing their way through the crowd to get to the gang, and just as the lorry turned the corner, Marc and Dani saw the aggressors being escorted away, even though they resisted, thrashing in the guards’ arms.

“Luca’s safe, isn’t he?” said Marc to Dani. “Those guys will look after him, won’t they?”

“He’s safe, I’m sure. You mean Vale’s security guards?”

“No, those guys who were in my garage with my 93 bike. One of them’s called Jorge, isn’t he? And where was Tito? He wasn’t there.”

Dani’s heart sank. “You mean Jorge Lorenzo? And the others were the other MotoGP riders—Dovi, Cal Crutchlow, Maverick. Is that who you mean?”

“Yes, them. I’m sorry, it’s overwhelming being back here.” He sagged against Dani, who supported him. “Where’s Tito again?”

“He’s injured, remember. Not seriously. He’s in hospital but getting out any day now.” Dani began worrying about what he’d tell Luca. Marc had seemed so alert and clued-in when he met his 93 bike again, but now that seemed to have slipped away from him.

***

After the Repsol crew finished their lap of honour and the lorry parked in the pit lane safely, Dani ran to find Luca. He wasn’t allowed into the Forward team garage so he asked a mechanic to send Luca out to him.

“How did it go?” asked the tall Italian, his race suit undone to his waist. "You don't look happy."

“It went well, apart from the homophobic tossers shouting abuse, but I must tell you—Marc forgot who the other MotoGP riders are, and I don’t think he recognised some of his crew.” Dani let out a big breath which he felt he’d been holding for a long time.

Luca also sighed. “He’s never going to remember properly, is he? The old Marc isn’t coming back, is he?”

“Doesn’t look like it. I’m so sorry.” Dani patted Luca’s arm. “But it’s still very soon after his accident—it’s only a few months. I’m sure as time passes he’ll remember more.”

He and Dani sank down to sit on the tarmac, leaning against the wall of the team garage, both deep in thought, as crew members hurried round them getting ready for the Moto2 race.

Luca stared past the flurry of activity going on around him, eyes focusing on the future, not the present. _How long can I carry on like this? It’s so tiring never knowing what Marc will remember each day, it’s like taking one step forward and two steps back, hoping that one day the real Marc will return completely. But I’m less sure of that as time goes on._

***

Later in the day, the MotoGP riders sat on their bikes on the grid, surrounded by their crew, grid girls, celebrities, TV interviewers—a mass of random, excited people, all milling about.

Luca, who had come tenth in his race, and Santi, were accompanying Marc as he looked at the bikes and the riders. He was grinning and looking in all directions.

“Where do we start?” he said to Luca, peering round him at all the activity on the grid. 

“This way,” said the Italian, keep hold of Marc’s arm to prevent him running off whenever he saw something exciting.

The bike in the number one position on the grid was a sleek Yamaha glinting in the Spanish, early autumn sun.

Luca was just about to introduce the rider, when Marc stepped forward and said, “you are number 25, Maverick Vinales.” He was looking at the bike, but his glance flicked from it to the rider.

“Yes!” said Maverick, holding out his hand to shake Marc’s. “I am!” Luckily, he hadn’t got his helmet on yet so his voice was clear.

“Hm, 25,” said Marc, as if he was logging it in his head. He turned to look at the man in the second grid place. “That is number four, Andrea Dovizioso.”

Amazingly, Dovi heard him over the noise surrounding them, and saluted the young Spaniard. Marc stepped towards the Italian, who also shook his hand, giving him a warm smile.

The third bike on the grid was the other Yamaha, and Luca hesitated as he saw his brother for the first time since he and Marc had arrived at Aragon.

“You’re Valentino Rossi, number 46,” said Marc fearlessly. “I know all about you.” He and Vale stared at each other for a few moments, then the Yamaha rider looked away and Marc went to the next rider, who was Dani.

He slowly worked his way down the grid,

“He knows every single rider and their number,” whispered Santi excitedly to Luca, who grinned and clutched the crew chief’s arm. By that time, they were at place eighteen and Marc was still matching each rider to the number on the bike.

Luca suddenly had a flash of inspiration. Luckily just as he did so, the ex-MotoGP rider Loris Capirossi strolled by, checking everyone was in the right place as he was now the safety advisor to Dorna. Luca tapped him on the shoulder and quickly explained his plan to him in Italian. Loris nodded and produced a pen from his pocket.

Marc watched in surprise as his boyfriend drew a large number 65 on the famous Italian rider’s shirt. They were both laughing. Then Marc clutched at Santi. 

“You’re Loris Capirossi!” he exclaimed, pointing at the 65.

“Yes!” shouted Loris and Luca together. People standing nearby gasped, then clapped at the scene.

Santi hustled Marc along to the next rider, who was Bradley Smith with his KTM. The big Spaniard stood in front of the bike number, covering it completely.

“Who is this?” Luca asked excitedly. Marc peered at the balding British rider.

“You do look familiar,” he said. “Damn, I can’t remember.”

“Don’t panic,” said Luca, trying not to shout. He pushed Santi out of the way, making him laugh. 

The number 38 was revealed and Marc shouted, “Bradley Smith! The Englishman at 38!”

So many people surrounding them on the grid were cheering and clapping now and Bradley actually climbed off his bike to hug Marc. “Oh mate, that’s so cool,” he drawled in his soft accent.

Luca hugged Marc after Bradley hurried back onto his bike again, then Loris Capirossi hugged them both, then Santi put his arms round them all and it was a big bundle of hugging.

“Now we know the secret,” gasped Luca in the middle of the hugs, happy to be squashed against his awesome boyfriend. “It’s the number.”

***

Marc and his group had to move off the grid then because the race was about to start, and he watched the whole thing from the VIP lounge, cuddled up to Luca. Marc knew each bike and even if he couldn’t remember the rider’s name, he knew the number. Santi sat nearby, and he was as happy as they were.

“I miss riding in these races,” he said after watching the podium celebrations. “The number 25 who won was amazing, and I didn’t think the 26 Dani would come second, he charged late at the end, didn’t he? Then the number 4 who came third fought off the 46 and 99, didn’t he?” His eyes were shining and Luca felt warm with happiness.

Santi had left earlier to give the couple some privacy—if that was even possible in the VIP lounge with people coming up to say hello to them every five minutes—but he returned looking flustered.

“They are holding a special meeting for some reason, and they want you to attend,” he blurted. “It’s starting in five minutes.”

“Me too?” asked Luca, squeezing Marc’s hand.

“Yes, you two are seen as an item now.” Santi grinned.

***

In the meeting room sat most of the riders, hot and sweaty after the race, they hadn’t even showered yet. Sitting to their left was Carmelo Ezpeleta, the boss of Dorna, and some people from Race Direction, plus Livio, Nakamoto and some circuit doctors in uniform.

“This is a very quick meeting before the official press conference,” said Carmelo. “Everyone noticed how well Marc did recognising all the riders, because they were with their bikes. So we are suggesting that all riders wear their bike numbers on their leathers, to help him with his recovery. I spoke to the doctors and they said it would help his memory a lot. What do you think?”

Silence as everyone looked at Marc and Luca standing there, hand in hand, gazing round at everyone.

“Y-yes, if that’s okay,” faltered Marc, not sure how he felt about it. “If that’s the only way to jog my memory, please do it.”

Luca noticed his brother was not there. _How typical—he never turns up to any meetings if he doesn’t have to. Forget about him._

“Are you sure you’re alright with this?” he asked Marc. “Don’t agree if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Even I noticed the difference today. It’s a relief.”

Luca squeezed his hand and there were a few “awws” from people in the room.

“So we will put our numbers on our race suits, to help you with your memory,” stated Dani, who was the senior rider present as Vale wasn’t there. The others nodded, and Aleix started clapping, followed by everyone else.

Marc and Luca exchanged smiles. “I don’t want to be treated differently, but it seems I can’t avoid it,” the young Spaniard mumbled, and his boyfriend hugged him, to yet more “awws”. Someone, probably Aleix, said, “aren’t they sweet.”

***

In one of the Yamaha offices, however, two men stood together in deep discussion.

“I found out that they want to put their race numbers on their suits to help Marc remember people,” said Uccio. “That is ridiculous. It will give him an advantage he could use against you.”

Vale stared at his friend. “How will that give him an advantage against me? He’s just trying to remember people.”

“He could be planning another conspiracy for when he starts racing again. I’ve never trusted that man.”

“But he hasn’t even ridden his bike yet, and we don’t know if he ever will.”

“I’m sure he isn’t as injured as he pretends. Sometimes he remembers things, sometimes he doesn’t—it’s not logical.” Uccio set his jaw. “He’ll start another conspiracy, you mark my words.”

“Well, let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“We should tell Race Direction to keep an eye on Marquez and his behaviour. We don’t want Luca getting dragged into it all.”

“Well…okay. We can mention it to Race Direction. But I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. Marc struggles to remember anything, never mind conspiracies.”

“Still. We need to protect you from further trouble. I can’t believe all those riders just went along with Carmelo.”

“Why wouldn’t they? They feel sorry for Marc. I feel sorry for him, actually.”

“You’re being gullible again.”

“I am not! They are simply helping another rider with his problems, it’s riding etiquette to do that.” 

“Is it? What do you mean?”

“I mean, seriously injured riders get help from the others. Not in the race, but if we can help them in other ways it’s not right to obstruct them.”

“That’s nonsense. You should focus on winning your tenth title, not Marquez and his problems!”

“You aren’t a rider, Uccio, so stop telling me what I should do. You don’t understand. We put our lives at risk every day, you don’t!” Vale glared at his friend, who glared back.

“Well I’m going to speak to Lin Jarvis. Come with me or don’t. You decide! If you’re so decisive today.” Uccio strode out, letting the door slam behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long chapters, I don't feel I can split them in half anywhere :/


	17. Practising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marc gets on his bike again.

After the race, the Repsol Honda team stayed on at Aragon to help Marc practice riding his bike again. His family also stayed on in the motorhome with him, and although it had three bedrooms, only one had a double bed and his parents were sleeping in that. So he and Luca slept in one twin room and Alex in the other. 

That morning, Marc was so excited that he woke up at 6 a.m. and threw a pillow at Luca to wake him up.

“What?” Luca sat up, his hair on end. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing, it’s just the day I’m going to ride the proper 93 again.” Marc sprang out of bed onto his boyfriend, who fell back, laughing.

“You be careful, it’s much more powerful than your dirt bike.”

“Yes, dear.” Marc stroked his hair.

“And if you feel tired, just stop. You don’t need to prove anything.”

“Yes, dear.”

“I’m not allowed to ride a MotoGP bike, so you’ll have to rely on Dani to help you.” He gazed into Marc’s eyes, like black circles in the grey morning light.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m so excited.” He bounced up again and ran out into the hall to get breakfast. Luca smiled after him.

***

When it was finally 10 a.m. and time for the practice, they went out onto the track, and found a lovely surprise waiting for them. As well as Dani and the test rider Hiroshi Aoyama, who’d been standing in for Marc, standing there in their leathers, Cal, Tito and Jack were there too. Each one wore his racing number visibly on the front of his race suit, as they had all agreed.

Marc hesitated. “W-what are you doing here?”

“LCR and Marc VDS decided as Honda teams, we should stay on too. We’ll get good practice as well as helping you,” explained Cal.

Marc and Luca both grinned, and shook hands with the other riders. Tito was still slightly injured but he had brushed aside his pain in order to help Marc out.

“Come on,” said Dani. “Let’s get on with it.”

The bikes were ready in the pitlane, so 93, 26, 7, 35, 53 and 43 set out onto the Aragon track. Luca waited on the pit wall with the Repsol crew. Forward Racing had tried to persuade him to take a break but he’d insisted on staying, so Balda and the team had bid him goodbye and left.

“Don’t forget, text me or call me if you need anything,” Balda had said, giving him a hug with a lot of back patting.

“I will, my friend.”

Now Luca was on his own among the Spanish, but he was used to that after living with the Marquez family for so long. He watched the group of riders heading off round the track, Marc at the front, and felt butterflies in his stomach. _What if he falls and gets injured again? What if he loses all the memory he’s worked so hard to regain?_

“Don’t worry, he’ll be alright,” said a voice beside him and he turned to see an older man who looked familiar. “I’m Emilio,” he explained, holding out his hand to shake, which Luca did. “I’m sorry I haven’t met you before, but my wife has been very ill.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that.”

“She is well again now, but I feel awful that I left Marc to cope with everything by himself, although he had you of course, and his family.”

“Well thanks for explaining.” Luca wasn’t sure what to say. He felt a fatherly aura from the older Spaniard, which was reassuring.

“Look, they are coming round again.” Emilio pointed.

Marc was still in the lead, the others were weaving around behind him, obviously taking care not to crash into him. Luca and Emilio watched attentively as they went round and round the track. Luca wished he could be out there but handling a MotoGP bike as well as paying attention to Marc would just be dangerous. One day he’d make it to the top class, he was determined. 

***

The moment Marc climbed onto his bike, he felt at home and natural. He wasn’t as supple as he’d been before the accident but he fitted on the 93 like it was a glove made for his hand. He set off round the track, automatically knowing which way round it went, and the others followed. Dani first, then Hiroshi, Cal, Tito and Jack. He could see which order they were in when he turned a corner, and he could sense them around him anyway. A flash of orange, blue or white told him which rider was nearest to him and which the furthest away.

After a few laps, Marc pulled over to the side of the track and stopped. Dani and Hiroshi stopped at once, but Cal, Tito and Jack were embroiled in their own battle. The Marc VDS riders were buzzing round Cal like bees and it was entertaining to watch.

“All okay?” shouted Dani through his visor over the growl of the bike engines.

“Yes, I’m fine. Why don’t you all start overtaking me like a real race? I can handle it! Please!”

“Well…alright. I’ll see what the others say.”

Of course one lap later, when the other three arrived and stopped next to the Repsol riders, they were all for the plan. Tito was a little wary, but Marc reassured him that if anything went wrong, they were in the best place because track doctors were right there to attend to anyone.

So they rode off together, Marc in the lead, but the others kept close behind. They hung back for a while, nervously, then Cal dived at him on the finishing straight, and whipped round him. He looked back to see Marc’s reaction, then was almost blown off his bike as the younger rider rocketed past him in return.

Luca and Emilio were now standing on the pit wall with the other Repsol team members, all shouting and waving as the riders roared by. Luca’s butterflies were back, he was still wishing he could be out there with Marc but there was no way his Moto2 bike would ever keep up with the top-class bikes.

On track, the other riders became more and more confident racing against Marc, even pushing past him occasionally, when they weren’t fighting each other.

After they’d done about twenty laps, Marc rode back into the pits, feeling tired. He hopped off his bike and fell into Santi’s arms, out of breath and grinning. Luca, Emilio and Livio hovered round, half anxious, half happy.

“That was the best half hour of my life!” he said as Santi passed him to Luca for a cuddle.

“Oh really?” Luca raised his eyebrows. “Thanks!”

“You know what I mean, smart-arse.” He turned to Emilio and Livio. “Can I ride in the next race? Where is it?”

Everyone gasped and made noises of horror.

“Japan, but no, you can’t,” said Livio. “But you can practise with the others or with a few of them, anyway. Not the whole pack. It will be good for you to try different tracks.”

“Well I remembered the corners here at Aragon, it was easy,” Marc boasted, still hugging Luca. “And the straights. I knew what to do on every part of the track.”

This time, everyone smiled and made noises of affection.

***

In Japan, the weather was cold, smoggy and wet. The riders and crew looked cautiously out of their garages on the first morning to assess the situation, and a few brave souls such as Cal, Iannone, Jack, Hiroshi and Barbera set out round the track to test the conditions. But each one skidded, went off the track and had trouble controlling their bikes. They returned to the pits with serious expressions, and talked to their crews and team mates for a long time.

“We don’t think it’s safe for you to ride today,” said Santi to Marc. “It’s too slippery.”

“But I can’t hide from the weather! I need to remember how to ride in all conditions, not just dry ones.”

The other problem with the wet conditions was that most riders wore raincoats, so their numbers weren’t showing clearly. This confused Marc and he wasn’t sure of some of their names, which just added to his annoyance. Alex and Luca were working with their teams, Dani and Hiroshi were busy with their own bikes and race plans, so Marc felt excluded and alone. His parents were there and fussing over him as usual, but that annoyed him too.

He was sitting slumped by the window of the hospitality area looking out at the rain, when someone sat down next to him. He turned to see an older man with greying hair.

“Emilio,” said the man, offering his hand to shake.

“Oh yes, you look familiar.” Marc smiled. Emilio radiated a warm, reassuring air. “You look very familiar indeed.”

The older man showed the younger his phone, which had pictures of them both celebrating on a podium with a large golden trophy. Marc’s grin was as wide as the horizon and Emilio’s was almost as broad.

“That was my 125 championship, wasn’t it?” He peered at the photo. “Don’t I look small? I really am older now aren’t I?”

Emilio smiled. “Yes, you are. I’m so sorry I wasn’t around for the last few months.”

“Yes, Luca said your wife was ill, but she’s better now.” He patted Emilio’s arm, feeling comfortable with him.

***

The rest of the race weekend was not as comfortable, however. Marc only went out on his bike once between the rain showers and he was escorted by Hiroshi so never felt he could push to the limits of his beloved 93.

“How’s it going?” asked Dani after his team mate had returned and was sitting in the garage looking out at the weather.

“Really badly, thanks!” Marc snapped.

“You never know, the weather might clear up. And maybe Repsol will stay on after this race like last time and you can keep practising.”

“I don’t want to practise. I want to race.” He thumped the nearest wall.

Dani didn’t know what to say, so just patted his arm and went back to his own bike to see if there were any more adjustments he could make for the conditions for free practice that afternoon.

Other riders visited Marc after the practice and qualifying sessions.

“Jorge and Dovi, right?” asked the young Spaniard when the pair of rain-coated Ducati riders approached the Repsol garage and beckoned him. He went outside the garage to meet them because they weren’t allowed in. He was good at recognising Jorge now but Dovi always confused him.

“That’s us. We’re infamous.” Jorge pretended to look round guiltily and Marc smiled a bit. “The thing with rain is, you just have to do your best and push on through it.”

“You and your rain,” said Dovi, with a slight chuckle. “Listen to him, Marc, he’s beaten his rain demons.”

“I haven’t got rain demons,” Marc snapped. “I just want to get out there into the rain and see how it feels.”

The Ducati riders paused, looking from one to the other.

“I’m sure you’ll be out there soon enough,” said Dovi at last. “We better go back now, take care, Marc.” He shook his hand.

Jorge smiled and shook Marc’s hand too and they sauntered back to their garage. Marc rolled his eyes, then saw a more welcome figure approaching.

“Luca!” he exclaimed, and flung himself into the Italian’s arms. Luca staggered a little but hugged him.

“Thank god you’re here. People keep trying to make me feel better but it just makes me feel worse. I hate seeing them all in their race suits, living their lives whereas I’m stuck here like this, not knowing anything.”

“It’s okay, you’ll get there.” Luca was used to reassuring his boyfriend by now, it had become his life. He always felt like the older one, which was a change from being the baby one as he’d always been with Vale. “Why don’t you stay at my place tonight? We’d get more privacy there.”

“Oh yes, yes, I’d love that.” Marc pushed him behind a convenient partition in the garage, stood on tiptoes and kissed him, pressing him against the cold surface of the wall. The occasional crew member walked past but everyone was so used to seeing the couple together these days, no one made any comment. There were so many more important things in life to worry about than who was in a relationship with who.

***

The weather was still rainy and grey on race day, but luckily it took place without any major incidents. There was plenty of overtaking, the odd controversy where some rider pushed another off the track rather too dangerously, and Maverick won. Marc had been forced to rely on reading the bike numbers because the riders' raincoats had covered up their suit numbers, so he'd been confident when they were on track, but when they were receiving their trophies on the podium, and being interviewed, he had trouble knowing who was who. But the race had been the interesting part, he didn’t really care about the aftermath. He wished and wished he could have taken part. _One day I’ll be champion again. One day I’ll get back to normal._


	18. Still Not Clear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will the tangles ever be sorted out?

The problem at Phillip Island was the strong wind, which made life more difficult for the riders than rain. Marc was nearly tearing his hair out with frustration at being unable to ride his bike, and the other problem he endured was all the other riders—because they weren’t riding either, they kept coming round to his garage to talk to him.

Some of them forgot about his memory problems and just turned up to chat—Marc sometimes knew who they were but sometimes didn’t and just talked to them about whatever they wanted. Luca tried to stay with him at all times but it was difficult because he had meetings and fitness training, and so did Marc. They trained together when they could but again, their teams had different schedules which often clashed. Luca and Marc agreed on a secret sign for when Marc was getting stressed—when he was overtired, or didn’t know who he was talking to, or didn’t know what someone was talking about, he would put both hands in his hair and run them through it a few times, and Luca would know he needed rescuing. They told Dani and Santi this signal too, and if Luca wasn’t there, one of them would step in.

“I hate needing to be rescued, I like to be independent,” Marc complained when they were cuddled up that night in bed in Luca’s trailer. He spent alternate nights there with him during the race weekend and the other nights in his own trailer with his parents and/or Alex.

Luca sighed. It was tiring indeed to be on constant watch with Marc, but he wouldn’t ever want to be without him. He hadn’t spoken to Vale since…actually, when had he last spoken to his brother?

“Why are you sighing? I’m sorry I’m such a burden.” Marc sighed too. “I only seem to know what to do with bikes, not people. I can’t remember them.”

“You’re not a burden!” He pulled Marc into a more comfortable position against his chest. “I was just thinking I can’t even remember the last time I spoke to Vale. I don’t even care.”

Marc was quiet for a while.

“Sorry to mention Vale,” Luca blurted. “I should know better.”

“No, no. I was just thinking. However much I hate him and what he’s done, he’s still your brother. Maybe you should go and see him.”

“I dunno. I think I’ll leave it. Come on, its bed time.” They cuddled up, too tired to do anything but sleep.

***

The next day however, the winds dropped, and Marc was allowed to go out on his bike. He was accompanied by his usual entourage of Dani, Hiroshi, Cal, Jack and Tito at first. After he’d ridden many laps, they all had lunch together, then another group of riders appeared, excitedly swarming round Marc.

“Can I help you at all?” he said, feeling like a rock star surrounded by screaming fans.

“Can _we_ ride round with you now instead of the Hondas?” asked Jorge, one who Marc had learned to recognise, even without his number on. He was even getting better at identifying Jorge’s team mate, Dovi.

The others waited with wide eyes, looking like meerkats standing up surveying the desert.

“Yes, okay. As long as you aren’t plotting against me.”

The riders all laughed, then a blond one came to shake his hand, followed by a very tall guy, then the two brothers Marc had seen a lot of times and a curly haired younger man.

“I’m Alvaro Bautista, this is Loris Baz and these are—” began the smiley blond.

“Aleix and Pol Espargaro!” exclaimed Marc, seeing their numbers. “And Alex Rins!”

Everyone laughed with him, some patted him on the back too.

The group set out following Marc as the Hondas had before. The factory Ducatis zipped past him as soon as they hit a straight, showing off, but they waited for him further along the track. The Aspar Ducati, Aprilia and Suzuki kept up with Marc, but the KTM and the Avintia Ducati stayed behind. 

Marc loved the Phillip Island track and enjoyed racing the other bikes—it was more like a proper race now with bikes of various makes, rather than just Hondas. He loved to see how they handled differently to his own bike, and how their riders had to assume different positions to ride them.

Luca was watching of course, his heart in his mouth sometimes, but he could see the fun his boyfriend was having and grinned as he saw him go round and round the track.

After the impromptu practice session ended, all the riders were out of breath and glowing with excitement and happiness.

“That was so great, Marc!” gushed Aleix, hugging him. “It’s so cool you remember how to ride as well as you used to.”

“Do you think so?” Marc blushed at the compliment. “It seems I’ve recovered that bit of my memory perfectly. I just need to recover the rest.”

“That’ll come,” said Pol. “Just trust yourself.” He hugged Marc too.

***

As a treat, Dorna arranged for Marc to present the trophy to the winning rider and he waited excitedly for the opportunity. He hoped it would be Dani on the top step, or maybe Tito or even Jorge or Cal.

The race went on and on, Marc was jumping up and down in the viewing gallery with Luca, who had come fifth in the Moto 2 race and was tired but happy.

“One day I’ll present the trophy to you.” Marc looked up at him. “You’ll win a championship and I’ll be there to reward you.”

Luca grinned. “I just love your optimism.”

“It’s fate. I’m sure it will happen.” Marc turned back to the race, and a few laps later, Vale and Maverick came home in first and second places, followed by Jorge. “Oh it would be him winning, wouldn’t it? Damn him. I’ll throw the fucking trophy at him.” He was only half joking.

***

Vale stood on the podium, staring down at Marc with a small smile playing round his lips. Was it a smirk? 

“Congratulations,” said Marc, smiling politely but coldly. “You rode a good race.”

“Well thank you.” Vale gave a small bow as he took the cup. He spoke clearly into the microphone. “I really hope to see you back here racing with us soon.” The crowd made _aww_ sounds and the interviewer standing nearby smiled, captivated.

“So let me jump in here,” he said. “You’ve been helping Marc with his memory problems, is that right? And you’ve come to terms with his relationship with your little brother?”

“Yes. I believe in putting the past in the past and moving forward. Marc had a terrible accident that was partly my fault, so I want to make up for it.” He smiled with his mouth only at the young rider. “And Luca seems happy enough, so it is okay with me. I think people should have relationships with who they want to, never mind if they are gay, straight or anything else.”

The crowd cheered and started chanting ‘Rossi! Rossi! Rossi!’

“That’s very admirable. How about you, Marc? Willing to be friends again?”

Marc continued to smile but was inwardly cursing Vale. _How dare he pretend he’s the tolerant, broad-minded one, taking care of someone who he said had once hurt him, like some kind of saint? His fans can’t have found out about Uccio’s plans to discredit me, or surely they wouldn’t still worship him? Who knows with his crazy fans, though, they are mad. But I can hardly make a scene in front of his army of fans, the television audience and all the officials._

Jorge caught his eye as he looked over and made a face of disbelief, but Marc didn’t react.

“Sometimes things are more important than racing indeed,” he said to the interviewer at last. “We will move forward from everything that happened and just focus on the racing.” _I don’t even know what I’m saying, as long as it sounds good and stops people from booing. I must get out of here soon though, I’m feeling dizzy._

“Good, that is good.” Vale looked smug, and the interviewer began to ask him questions about the race.

“I hope to see you back racing too,” said Maverick quietly, almost dropping his own trophy to shake Marc’s hand enthusiastically, as if he was trying to make up for his team mate.

Before Marc could even leave the stage, Vale had turned on the charm, his voice rising and falling with excitement, his hands gesturing wildly. The crowd was laughing, Marc already forgotten. The young Spaniard swayed on his feet a little, all the emotions hitting him, but he felt an arm round his back supporting him. He looked round to see Jorge, his eyes flaming with disapproval. He sagged against the robust Mallorcan as he ushered him away from the podium, saying, “I’m not in his team anymore, I don’t have to grovel to him,” which made them both chuckle at the thought of Jorge grovelling.

He led Marc to a chair in the waiting room and barked, “get him some water,” to a nearby staff member. 

Luca hurried up to them, his face like thunder. “How dare he treat you like that?” he hissed.

“Just what I thought,” agreed Jorge.

“He acts like everything is normal between you two, when he’s been plotting with Uccio behind your back to discredit you and turn everyone against you and make out you’re a liar. As well as split us up. I’m going to see him now. Right now.”

“No no no! You can’t go onto the podium!” Jorge restrained the young Italian. “Go to his trailer later. You’d be lynched out there if you question Saint Valentino.”

***

But Vale skilfully managed to avoid his brother at Phillip Island, and Luca brooded for a whole week waiting to go and see him at Sepang, Malaysia.

“It’s so ironic,” said Marc as he and Luca cuddled up in their hotel. They had gone there immediately after the Australian race to acclimatise. “Bad things always happen at Sepang. They told me that my eye injury happened there, and you told me of the argument in 2015, and the death of Sic in 2011.”

Luca sighed. “I’ve got to confront him though, I’m tired of his stupid games. I’m going to give him an ultimatum.”

Marc smiled. _I like the idea of an ultimatum. I just hope I figure in it and Vale won’t persuade him to leave me go back to the ranch. Surely Luca is committed to me now. He gave me a grass bracelet which I take everywhere with me, even if it’s too fragile to wear on the bike._

He looked up then and Luca was snoring against his head, so he cuddled up to him, thinking how lucky he was.


	19. The Beginning of the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some relationships are on a knife edge…

“Leave us alone, Uccio.” Luca turned to the big Italian with a level gaze, challenging him, and he glared back. “I need to talk to my brother.”

“Anything you have to say to him, you can say in front of me.” He smiled smugly, not even looking at Vale for confirmation.

“No. I can’t.” Luca and Uccio stared at each other, neither willing to give way. “Get out.” Luca didn’t speak angrily, just with an air of threat, and he wasn’t backing down. He’d had enough of being the eager little brother, trying hard to please Vale and his entourage. He was tired, he wanted a better life of his own choice.

They remained like that for a few minutes, then finally Vale said, “Go and wait for me in my office.”

Uccio stared at him for a second, then drew himself up to his full height and stalked out. 

Luca turned to his brother. “What was all that play acting on the podium at Phillip Island? How you’re so open minded and feel sorry for Marc and blah blah blah. It was crap and you know it. You just said it to please your fans!”

“No, I didn’t, I—”

“And you’re unbelievably cruel. You made me believe that Marc was faking his memory loss. He isn’t. You made me test him and upset him to prove it. I can’t believe I fell for your lies. I’ve had enough of you.”

“But—but it was Uccio who said I should—”

“It’s always Uccio isn’t it? You can’t keep living like that. You’re nearly forty and he still runs your life. Grow up.”

“I am grown up! I make my own decisions, I—”

“No, you don’t! You’re his puppet. You can’t even think for yourself anymore, you just believe what he tells you.”

Vale’s expression darkened. “How dare you! I’m my own man. No one tells me what to do. I am the most important person in Yamaha and Marc was trying to undermine me by getting you under his spell. If he isn’t faking, he has some other plan.”

“It’s not all about _you,_ Vale!” Luca shouted. “He had an accident and lost his memory. That’s all! If you don’t like our relationship, that’s fine, but it’s real. So deal with it.”

“Why don’t you just come back to our family, Luca? And find someone else who has a working memory and be with him? Someone who—”

“Stop! Stop it! I’m tired of the same old argument! I’ve had enough. You have to choose, Vale. You either choose me, your brother and how I live my life. Or you choose Uccio and your life of being the golden one, high on his throne with everyone else running your life for you!”

“I can’t choose between my brother and my best friend! Be reasonable! I want both. Why can’t we go back to how we were? With you living at the ranch? Everything was calm and we had fun with no problems. Why did it have to change?”

“That’s life—changes happen. I’ve grown up. But as I said, you have to choose. Me or Uccio. I’ll give you one week.” Luca strode out, leaving his brother with his mouth opening and shutting like a goldfish.

***

Luca returned to Marc with a face like a thundercloud, stamping through the door of his motorhome and slamming it.

“What the hell happened?” Marc hugged him, standing on tiptoes, and drew him down to the sofa, where Luca told him all the details of the argument.

“That’s a big ultimatum, sure you can handle it?”

“Of course I can, I’m not a baby.”

“I know you’re not, but if I ever fell out with Alex like that, I’d be heartbroken.”

“Alex is normal though. He’s not a middle-aged man acting like a teenager.”

“Oh…yes…I suppose he is middle aged. I hadn’t thought of that.” Marc stroked blond hair. “He should be sitting by the fire, with Uccio fetching his pipe and slippers.”

Luca smiled a little. “We’ll see in a week whether he chooses me, or the pipe and slipper guy. I’m not sure I care to be honest. As long as they just leave us alone.”

“Well there are two options. One: he chooses you. So that would probably mean he accepts us. Two: he chooses Uccio. So you and I would never speak to him again.”

“We’ll see, won’t we. I’m keeping away from him til he decides.”

“But don’t worry, I’ll always be here to fetch your pipe and slippers.” Marc fluttered his eyelashes and Luca smiled more.

***

The weather at Sepang was similar to Japan—overcast, damp, cold. Marc felt confident enough to ride, but this time however, he had a new visitor. 

“Can I come with you?” asked Maverick on the second day.

“Oh! Y—yes—I—please do.” Marc was astounded. He didn’t think any Yamaha riders were allowed to help him, due to the influence of Rossi.

“I miss you. No one challenges me like you do.” They stared at each other for a second, then Maverick went to get his bike. Marc felt a tear in his eye.

This time, Marc’s entourage consisted of a bunch of rookies—Zarco, Folger, Rins and Lowes, plus Dani, Hiroshi and Tito. And of course, Maverick.

They set off rather cautiously but despite the bad conditions, Marc and Maverick pulled away from the pack, with only Dani able to keep up with them. It was like the younger Spaniard gave Marc a boost of confidence and he felt able to swap overtakes with him, and also sometimes Dani, but Maverick was cheekier. They played and fought for lap after lap, and when Marc grew tired, he realised they’d done forty laps.

He rode into the pits, followed by his opponent, and when they dismounted, they hugged each other.

“Next year you must come back and fight me for real,” said Maverick, with a wink. They were standing near the Yamaha garage—the figures of Vale and Uccio loomed in the background but Maverick ignored them.

“I will!” Marc beamed at his rival and maybe friend. He also ignored the ominous Italians and went into the Repsol garage with Dani.

***

In contrast to the off-track dramas, the race itself was pretty uneventful, although both Luca and Marc were glad to see Jorge winning with Dani second. Vale just missed out on the podium, as Cal pipped him by a few tenths of a second.

Luca heard nothing from Vale—it was like his brother had become invisible apart from on the screens. There was radio silence in a rather unnerving way, so he just tried to continue with his racing life normally, packing up his things to move onto the next race. He’d come ninth in the Moto 2 race, which was acceptable, and felt he was on the last hurdle of the year with only Valencia to go.

***

On the very first day they arrived at Valencia, however, Marc and Luca were called to Race Direction.

“What the hell is this all about?” asked Marc as they walked towards the tall white structure where Race Direction resided. “They punish riders, don’t they?”

Luca patiently explained the function of Race Direction to him.

“I’m sure I’ve been in trouble with them before, haven’t I?”

“Yes, but we all have.”

“Surely not you. You’d just look at them angelically and they’d let you do what you wanted.” Marc tickled him under the chin.

“Sadly, not.” He tutted, pushing Marc’s hand away. “But maybe I should try that now, because I don’t know what they want to talk to us about.”

When they reached the building, they were ushered into the main office where Mike Webb and Franco Uncini waited, wearing serious expressions.

“Please sit down,” said Franco, gesturing to the seats, so the couple obeyed, sitting close together.

“We wish to talk about the riders wearing racing numbers on their suits,” Mike said.

Luca felt butterflies in his stomach.

“We’ve had a number of complaints, and we’ve decided it is too distracting and could pose an advantage for any rider with a score to settle.”

“What?” asked Marc, frowning.

“So we have decided to go back to the original system of numbers being on bikes only.”

“Complaints from who?” asked Luca. “Valentino Rossi, I’m guessing?”

“That is confidential.”

“Crap! I know it’s him!”

“I said, a number of complaints.”

“Maybe from his friends too then—let’s see. Uccio? Iannone? Petrucci?” Luca felt cold rage growing in his heart. He looked at Marc, whose face was pale.

“That is confidential. I’m sorry, Luca, but we can’t say.”

“Bastards!” shouted the young Italian, jumping up. “They know this will shake Marc up, they want to make sure he doesn’t feel confident enough to ride!”

“We thought the complaints were valid, so we are going back to the original system.” Franco set his jaw. “That is our decision, so please accept it.”

“Our teams won’t like this,” said Marc quietly, wishing Emilio or Santi were with him.

“We’ve spoken to the teams. They didn’t like it but they must accept our decision or be barred from racing. Those are the rules.”

“You can’t seriously be telling me that riders can’t wear their numbers on their suits because of a few whingers!” shouted Luca. “That is totally unfair, biased and prejudiced.”

But however much he and Marc argued, the two Race Directors were adamant. No rider would be allowed to wear his number on his suit anymore.

The couple stumbled out of the office in a dreamlike state—or was it a nightmare—and stumbled to Repsol’s garage.

“What’s wrong?” asked Santi, after one look at their faces. So Marc told him, with Luca interrupting him with details every so often.

“Oh god, I knew they were up to something.” Santi frowned. “Fucking idiots!”

Hearing Santi swearing like that was almost more shocking than what Race Direction had decided.

“They said they’d told the teams, didn’t you know?” asked Marc.

“They probably told the top guys, who didn’t have the guts to tell me or you.” Santi ground his teeth.

“Well, it’s over then,” said Luca, throwing his hands up.

“What?” said Marc and Santi together.

“My relationship with my brother is over! He is behind this! He’s a—” He unleashed a volley of Italian swear words that luckily none of the Repsol crew understood.

“Oh I thought you meant WE were over for a minute,” said Marc, hugging him in relief.

“No, no, no.” Luca hugged him back, but glared over his head into the distance, deep in thought.

***

The rest of the day passed in confusion. A continuous stream of riders arrived at the Repsol pit to tell Marc how sorry they were about the new Race Direction rules and some insisted they would wear their numbers even if they got into trouble. Even non-rider members of teams visited him to make their feelings clear and the atmosphere in the orange garage was uneasy and volatile. Even Dani and Santi were snapping at everyone and stamping around.

Marc kept forgetting who riders were because they wore no numbers, let alone who the other staff members were, plus he was upset and distracted by thinking how devious Rossi and Uccio really were. Most visitors to the garage had to remind him of their names and he felt like he was slipping backwards, relentlessly, into total amnesia. 

_Why bother trying to get back into riding? I’ll never get it right, I might as well just be a spectator._ He sat slumped in the garage against the wall, hoping no one would notice him. His parents and Santi fussed round him but he was hardly aware of their presence.

In the Forward Racing garage, Luca was speaking abruptly to everyone too. He’d thought Vale would come to his senses and be his big brother again but his determination to ruin Marc was like a poison, running through everything, destroying it, making it all tainted and bad.

The last straw was when visiting media told him that Vale had crashed in the race and stormed off to his motorhome afterwards without even speaking to his team. The journalists expected a reaction from his brother and they got one.

“I don’t care!” Luca snapped. “All he’s done is try and split me and Marc up, spread lies and rumours about him. He just does whatever his master Uccio says. Don’t talk to me again about him, he’s dead to me.”

His mother Stefania came up just as he was saying all this to the circle of waiting journalists, and began arguing with him.

“But he’s your brother, you can’t abandon him!” she shouted. 

“HE abandoned ME, mama, with his lies and deceit. Go to him if he’s your favourite son!” He was crying now, so was his mother, and even some of the reporters were looking concerned. Forward Racing team members came running out, Luca’s crew chief in the lead, and they took the mother and son into the garage and pulled the doors down.

At the Repsol team it was the same.

“How do you feel about Rossi crashing?” shouted a journalist at Marc.

“How do you feel about the decision to stop the riders wearing their numbers on their suits?” shouted another.

“How will it affect your memory?”

“How will it affect your relationship with Luca?”

Marc stared in bewilderment at them, stuttering, “I don’t know,” to each question, until his team members hurried out of the garage, dragged him inside and shut the doors.

There was chaos in the pitlane for the next couple of hours with ravening media crews and an increased number of interested visitors, so Race Direction, the Valencia circuit manager and Dorna had to send their security guards to move people along.

Inside the Repsol garage, Marc had tolerated being besieged for long enough. “I’m going to my motorhome!” he announced, sending everyone into a frenzy. “I’m going, whatever you say.”

Someone fetched Livio Suppo to come and speak to him, but the wise principal took one look at the agitated young rider and decided to call security guards to escort him wherever he wanted to go.

Marc texted Luca to tell him what he was doing, and set off out of the garage, followed by the burly minders. When the group had marched halfway up the pitlane, Luca joined him, accompanied by his own security officers.

“I can’t stand it!” Marc shouted, pushing through the crowd on his way to his motorhome sanctuary, and out into the clear space where the public weren’t allowed to go. “Everyone’s laughing at me! Look at the poor kid, he can’t remember anything.”

“They’re not laughing! They’re sorry for you!” Luca panted, trying to keep up with him. The bodyguards followed at a discreet distance, ready to step in at the first sign of any trouble.

“Sorry for me! That’s even worse! I don’t want people sorry for me! It’s an insult! I was the champion last year and now look at me!” His eyes flashed and he looked possessed, almost snarling with rage.

“There’s nothing wrong with you!” snapped Luca, his own temper starting to boil again, after his team had calmed him and his mother earlier. Months of being restrained and patient, rarely able to relax and expect anything, had taken their toll. “At least you’re alive, you should be grateful for that!”

They stopped outside Marc’s front door, glaring at each other.

“You’re crying,” stated Marc. He wiped a tear from Luca’s cheek,

“I can’t do this anymore. I’m not strong enough.”

“What?!”

“I can’t carry on like this forever, always having to remind you about everything and never knowing how much you’ll remember and even if you’ll remember me every day. I’m only twenty, I want to relax and not have to be the grown up all the time, I’m not old enough for that yet. You get so angry when you can’t remember things and then there’s Vale trying to pull us apart all the time and the fans hating us and all this Spain/ Italy rivalry saying we shouldn’t be together because its disloyal, and—” He had to stop for breath so Marc took advantage.

“I’ll always remember who you are, I will! And I thought we’d put Vale and the Italians off, we don’t need them, we’ve got my family and our friends too. I’m sorry I can’t remember, but I’m getting better every day, I promise. Don’t give up now, we’ve come so far.” He reached for Luca’s hand, but the blond folded his arms.

“It would be best if I go now.”

“It would not!” He hugged him more tightly, reaching up to stroke the blond hair and mess it up. “Come and have a coffee or something, please.”

“Alright.” Luca allowed himself to be led through the front door.


	20. Twenty four!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Final Showdown.
> 
> Mmm…mmm, if I could melt your heart  
> Mmm…mmm, we'd never be apart  
> Mmm…mmm, give yourself to me  
> Mmm…mmm, you hold the key
> 
> (Frozen—by Madonna)

Vale sat alone in his unlit motorhome—he had been there for hours, sitting in the same position, lost in thought. His mother had already been to visit and she’d given him a lecture about respecting his brother’s way of life, preferences and choices. He hadn’t listened too carefully, because most of what she’d said had been the same as he’d been thinking anyway. But she’d left in a furious mood, which he’d taken note of. It wasn’t like his mother to be as angry as that.

At last, he sent an important text to someone asking them to come and meet him there.

Pacing up and down the lounge, now with the light on, he eventually heard a knock on the door. Opening it, he saw his guest looming on the steps outside, wearing a smug smile.

“Come in.” Vale wasn’t looking forward to this but it had to happen.

“So, looks like my plan has worked.” Uccio strode in and plonked himself down on the sofa “Your brother and Marquez were last seen arguing. Race Direction agreed with our worries about the riders wearing their numbers. Success.” He beamed.

“No,” said Vale. “I don’t like it.” He sat in the chair opposite his friend.

“Oh, come on, it’s what you wanted. To get your brother away from that—that—”

“Stop it. Marc is Luca’s boyfriend.”

“He’s just using Luca to get to you. I promise you, that’s what it is. Can’t you see it?”

Vale mumbled something.

“What?”

“I said, I’ve had enough. I want to stop this. We’ve tried everything to split them up, but my spies tell me that they went off into Marc’s motorhome together. Together. We have to accept it. They are in love and he is a permanent fixture in Luca’s life.”

“Never!” shouted Uccio, jumping up. “You mustn’t give in so easily! I’ve got so many more plans. If you let me tell you, I’ll—”

“Stop! Just stop, okay. Just let them be.”

“No, I won’t! We are so nearly there, so near to breaking them. Everyone heard them arguing, they said—”

Vale jumped up too now, holding his hands up. “Uccio! Stop! Just stop. My whole life is a mess! I’ve lost my brother, and probably my mother, I have no wife, no children! My whole life is focused on racing, I have no other life! If I lose my little brother—” He stopped to collect himself. “My little, baby brother, because of some stupid thing like he’s in love with my rival—how senseless is that?”

“But on the podium, you did exactly the right thing. You had Marquez in the perfect position to paint him as the bad guy, he nearly fainted afterwards. You’ve beaten him, you know his weaknesses—”

“Stop! Just shut up! I only did what you told me to and I felt bad! I want to finish my final racing years happy, not plotting and planning! The little Maverick is my team mate now, he is young enough to be my son! I want to focus on my team and riding my best races, not on plotting against people! I want a life! I won’t win my tenth title! The dream is over and I have nine titles. I want to find a wife and have a family! It’s alright for you—you have those already, but I do not!” He was out of breath after this outburst.

Uccio was staring at him. “So, what should I do now? Not defend your status and position? Leave you to the wolves?”

“Don’t be so stupid! I’ve been thinking. You know I’m opening a branch of VR46 in Indonesia. There are so many great riders there, so much potential. What if you go and manage that?”

“Go to Indonesia? That’s thousands of kilometres away! What about my wife? My children? What will they do?” Uccio’s face was white.

“Take them with you! They’ll have a great life there.”

They stared at each other—Vale hopeful, Uccio bewildered.

“How dare you!” barked the broader man, so suddenly that his companion jumped. “I’ve been friends with you since we were five years old, and now you want to send me away?” 

“We need a break from each other! I—”

“How dare you do that to me! You owe me and I’ll make you pay!”

“Get out if you’re going to talk like that to me. Get out of my home!”

“Oh, this is your home isn’t it! Your only home! You spend most of your life in here, how sad!” Now Uccio’s face was bright red. “At least I have a REAL life.”

Vale glared at him. “Get out now before I change my mind and fire you! Get out and go to Indonesia, far away from here.” He stepped up to Uccio, glaring at him, and managed to intimidate him for once.

Uccio drew himself up to his full height, stepped back from the furious rider, and stormed out of the front door.

Vale exhaled loudly, then slumped on the sofa. Now he must go and congratulate his little brother and his greatest rival on their happy relationship. At least, he hoped Uccio was wrong and they weren’t on the verge of splitting up.

***

In Marc’s motorhome, his brain was working overtime—he was tired after the long day but not too tired to plan. _I’m not going to let Luca just slip away. I’m not!_ He clenched his fists for a moment then gestured to the sofa, saying calmly, “Sit down, please. Do you want coffee or beer?” He stood at the fridge door, poised to get either.

“Oh…beer please. I want to relax, not get more jittery.”

“You can sit at one end with your feet up if you want?” Marc poured the beer out into his finest glass. He turned to see that his guest had taken up his offer and was sitting with his long legs stretched out along the sofa. So Marc sat by his feet and undid his shoes for him, putting them on the floor carefully.

“My feet stink.”

“No, they don’t,” Marc lied. “Well, okay, your socks do.” He peeled off the sweaty items and stuffed them in Luca’s shoes, surreptitiously kicking them under the table. He also secretly flexed his fingers, then began to massage Luca’s feet.

“What are you doing?”

“Has no one ever massaged your feet before?” He cackled and Luca groaned.

“Yeah, keep doing that.”

Marc grinned as devilishly as he wanted because Luca’s eyes were shut.

“You just need a rest, that’s all. You’ve done so much for me, it’s time I looked after you for a change.”

“You don’t have to, you—”

“Shush. I must tell you something. Dani told me that when people found out about us, _everyone_ thought I was using you to get to Vale—”

“But you—ohhh!” Marc interrupted him with some deep massage of his inner arches.

“I’m certain that isn’t what I did. I feel like I’ve only known you for a few months and I like YOU, not some revenge fantasy or whatever. You could have just left after my accident but all you’ve ever done is help me, look after me and make me happy. You make me laugh, you calm me down when I get angry and remind me of things I should know. And—and you’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Luca opened his eyes. “But—”

“I’m just saying, if you do really want to leave, I won’t stop you but I don’t want you to. I just want YOU.” His heartbeat was speeding up. Was it too late to keep Luca with him?

Luca was gazing at him.

“You’re not just some guy, you’re the best guy I know and I don’t care if I can’t remember everything that happened before Le Mans.” His heart felt like it was going to jump out of his chest soon. “I don’t like being angry so I won’t be anymore, I promise, I’ll—” 

“Stop talking, please.”

“Why? Sorry, I talk too much, I—” He was suddenly pulled forwards by the shirt so he fell onto Luca, their lips pressed against each other’s and they kissed til they had no breath left. “Stay with me tonight?” he gasped, looking into the crystal blue eyes. “If you go, you might not come back.”

Luca kissed him again as an answer and they somehow stumbled towards the bedroom, getting tangled up in clothes and limbs but unable to move separately.

***

Next morning, Marc woke up with every bone and muscle feeling heavy and warm. His mind was clear, as if all worries had been washed away, and a huge weight had been lifted off him. He almost felt he was part of the bed, sunk down into it, with no will or strength to get up off it. And he didn’t need to look in a mirror to see that his mouth stayed in a permanent smile. Last night had been the most passionate of his life, he’d known Luca had been wary of him since he lost his memory and became seventeen years old again, but they’d both forgotten all that last night. The wild noises Luca had made and how tight and hot he’d felt around Marc’s cock had driven him nearly insane and they’d made love to each other all ways til they were exhausted, not caring what people outside their trailer might have thought.

He looked over to see Luca dozing beside him, looking as relaxed as he felt, even smiling in his sleep. _Luca._ Something clicked and fitted into place in Marc’s mind, as if a little engine hummed into life. Memories flooded back like water swirling in a bath, but it wasn’t draining, it was coming up like a fountain to refill his bath—his mind—again. _Luca is the brother of my worst enemy, Valentino Rossi, who accused me of collaborating with Jorge Lorenzo to take away his title. Rossi kicked me off my bike and was penalised. I met Luca at some riders’ party and fancied him but had no thought that he’d feel the same. But he did and we had to keep it quiet from Rossi. Luca ran away to my house to escape his brother and we hid out at my lawyer’s villa to escape everyone. When we went back to racing, I had a terrible accident with Rossi and went into a coma. Then when I came out of it, I was seventeen years old again and had no memory of the last seven years. But now it’s come back._

He remembered Luca telling him this story at his parents’ house, but it had been just that, a story. Now he felt it was true in his heart, he’d been part of this story, not the audience. He felt the knowledge flooding his body now too, every organ and limb, his skin, his fingers and toes, were working together and powering up like a generator. Everything connected properly again.

“Luca!” He prodded the beautiful Italian in the shoulder. “I remember!”

“Hm?” He looked up sleepily, peering at Marc in the half light.

“I said, I remember! I remember it all.”

“Wh—what?” Luca sat up and took his hand.

“I remember what happened! I remember how we met and everything.” Tears ran down Marc’s cheeks. “What Rossi did, what I did, what you did. That I’m twenty four years old.”

“Oh Marc!” Luca hugged him. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. My dearest love.” They hugged so tightly they struggled to breathe. “I’m older than you, so I should be taking care of you and I shall. You can relax now.” Luca was crying in his arms with relief and happiness.

“Are you sure? What happened? What made it come back?” mumbled the young rider against his lover’s shoulder.

“You happened. You’re a wizard. A magician. An angel.” He kissed Luca lovingly, pushing him back onto the bed, but not roughly—all their passion had been spent last night and now they were warm and cosy together.

“I am? Well, I…I’m glad I had some effect on you.” He blushed.

“You always have a great effect on me.” Marc hugged him tightly. “Now I’ll cook you a huge breakfast to celebrate.”

“Be careful not to burn yourself, when was the last time you cooked?”

“I cook all the time. Remember when you ran away from Rossi and I cooked for us?”

“Oh yes—yes, of course. I remember that and so do you.” Luca beamed.

***

After the delicious breakfast, entirely cooked by Marc while Luca watched, the couple set off hand in hand towards the Repsol garage, almost skipping with happiness. All the teams were still at Valencia as there were so many end of season events to do with the sponsors and so on. Marc spotted a blond man in a t-shirt and jeans, and dragged Luca towards him.

“Alvaro Bautista? How’s it going at your new team? Aspar? I know it’s the end of the season but I expect you did well?”

Alvaro stared at him for a second. “You didn’t know me yesterday. You—you’ve got your memory back? ”

“That’s right. I have.” Marc beamed at him.

“Oh, my dear friend, I’m so happy for you!” He flung his arms round Marc, which was quite a surprise as they weren’t really friends. “Yes, yes, I’m doing well at Aspar, I’ve had a great year. I’m getting married soon, too.” He turned to the tall Italian. “And Luca, nice to see you.” Alvaro shook his hand vigorously while still hugging Marc, so Luca couldn’t help smiling at them almost falling over.

When they’d left Alvaro whistling a tune on the way to his garage, they saw two more of their colleagues pushing a pram towards the garages.

“Ah, Cal Crutchlow and Jack Miller,” said Marc, striding towards them. “Congratulations on your wins in 2016. Very well done.”

They stared at him with their mouths open.

“Th—thanks,” stuttered Cal. “You’ve remembered! That’s fantastic, mate!” He beamed.

“Strewth!” exclaimed Jack. “That’s cool!”

Willow mumbled in her sleep so Marc peered into the pram. “And this is baby Willow. Although not so much a baby now, isn’t she over one year old now?”

“That’s right, mate.”

Willow said, “Dada!” suddenly and Cal leaned into her pram. 

“Come on, princess.” He lifted her up in his arms and she shrieked with excitement. “Here’s Uncle Marc.” He held her out to him.

“Hello,” said Marc, making a cute face at her. “I’m Marc.”

“Mar!” she said, trying to grab his nose.

“Careful, mate, she’ll have your nose off,” laughed Cal.

Marc ignored him. “Come on.” He held out his arms and she jumped into them.

“Aww…” said Jack. “You must have kids someday. Find yourself a Sheila, get her pregnant and—”

Cal nudged him violently.

“Er—I mean—you can have kids in any way—adopt, have a surrogate mum—lots of options these days,” he babbled. “I’ll shut up now.”

“Yeah,” agreed Cal, glaring at him.

Marc turned to Luca, who was smiling shyly. “Here’s Uncle Luca,” he said, and Willow shrieked and tried to grab his nose too. Everyone laughed.

“She’s got a thing about noses at the moment, not sure why,” chuckled Cal. He and Jack shook hands heartily with their fellow riders, grinning in delight.

After giving Willow back to her father, the couple walked away hand in hand.

“You must have kids one day, you’re so good with them,” said Luca.

“ONE day, yes. But not now. And I won’t be finding a Sheila.”

“What is a Sheila, anyway?”

“A woman. The Australian word for woman. I do like kids, perhaps we should have some. I mean—I—me—I should have them—I don’t want to—to—presume.”

“Whatever you want, Marc. We’ll have twenty kids. Or no kids. Anything. As long as we’re together and I’ve got you back.”

Marc stood on tiptoe to kiss him, then they realised that they were outside the Repsol garage and all the crew members were staring at them, smiling.

But before they could greet their friends, Marc became aware of a presence nearby and turned to see a tall, thin figure standing by the garage wall, twisting his yellow cap in his hands. His face was pale and possibly tearstained, so Marc pulled at Luca’s shirt to alert him, making him jump and shiver when he saw the visitor.

“What should I say to him?” he whispered, cowering.

“I’ll handle it.” Marc turned to Valentino. “What do YOU want?” He stared at the tall Italian.

“I want to speak to my brother.”

“You can speak to me in front of Marc,” said Luca. “He remembers, you know. He remembers everything you did to him, and to me. He remembers Sepang, and the accident, and everything since.”

“Oh. Well, that is—that’s good, isn’t it?”

“Vale, what do you want? We’re busy.”

The Repsol crew were watching the trio, hardly moving, fascinated.

“I’ve chosen y—you, my baby brother and I—I’ve sent Uccio away.” Vale’s voice was low and weak.

“What do you mean, away? Where’s he gone?”

Vale explained what he’d said to his former friend and where he’d sent him. After the long explanation, the brothers stared at each other.

“Maybe you should shake hands now?” suggested Marc.

After a minute, the two Italians did so, amid gasps from the onlookers.

“I’m sorry, L—Luca,” stuttered the older. “I can’t live my life without my family and my little b—brother.” He definitely had tears in his eyes now.

“We’ll see how it goes.” Luca had tears in his eyes too and clutched his boyfriend’s arm like a vice, still shivering a bit.

“Well, this is good,” said Marc. “Today is a fresh start.”

Vale gave a weak smile. “I must go back to my team now, I’m sorry. Please keep in touch. And…Marc?”

“Yes?”

“I’m happy that you’ve got your memories back.”

“Thank you.”

Vale stumbled off and Luca sagged against Marc.

“Don’t worry,” said the determined Spaniard. “I’ll look after you now, and make sure he doesn’t treat us badly.”

“Thank you.” Luca kissed him and the Repsol crew and visitors gave them a riotous round of applause.

“Right, let’s tell them what happened,” said Marc. “I mean, that I’ve got my memory back. Not what caused it.” He winked and Luca giggled. They stepped towards the garage and were welcomed with smiles and hugs from all their friends.


	21. Epilogue: 2033

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What has the future brought for our heroes, their relatives and their friends? Read on to find out…
> 
> I have added a part about Nicky Hayden and the long and happy life he should have had. Hope this doesn't offend anyone.

“Now, do you remember the words?” said Luca to the twins as they stood outside the bedroom door with him.

“Of course we do, Papa,” said the little dark haired girl, with one hand on her hip, the other wagging a finger. “We are not babies.”

Luca smiled and tried to stop her blond-haired brother zooming up and down the hall making helicopter noises.

“Ready? In we go.”

He opened the door to see Marc snoozing in bed. The eleven times MotoGP world champion’s dark hair had many grey streaks in it now, his face had a lot more laugh lines and his body was a little more rounded, but seeing him still made Luca’s heart miss a beat.

The children began to sing. Well, Carla was doing most of the singing, Alejandro more humming.

“Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday dear Papi

Happy birthday to you.”

Carla jumped onto the bed, unable to resist any longer, making her father jump, and wake up.

“Dear Papi.” She covered his face with kisses, then her brother jumped on Marc’s legs.

“Oh! Ow! Why did you let them in so early?” he moaned.

“It’s not early,” said Luca. “It’s eight thirty, lazybones.” He sat down on the other end of the bed. “Happy fortieth birthday, old man.”

“Well that’s nice. First you let the children jump on me, then you remind me of my age. You’re so cruel.” He was grinning as he said it, cuddling their little daughter while their son bounced up and down on the large double bed.

“Yes, I’m unbelievably cruel. And don’t forget, we have a lot of visitors coming for lunch.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Papa has already started cooking,” said Carla, pulling Luca towards her for a kiss.

“Have you? Oh dear, we better get ready to be poisoned,” said Marc, smiling.

“Cheeky. You’ll be eating in the garden for that.”

“It’s far too cold, how could you do that to me?” He made a sad, cute face.

“Well, if you will have your birthday in February…”

Marc tutted.

“So Alejo,” said Luca, lifting their son up. “Remember what I told you? What is it that you say to Papi on his special day?”

The little boy smiled beautifully into Marc’s face and said, “Papi, I want to be a helicopter when I grow up!”

“Oh do you?” said his father, suppressing a laugh. “Well, that will be very useful, can you fly me to my next holiday?”

“Oh yes.” The little boy jumped off and zoomed away, making helicopter noises while his fathers grinned at each other.

“He meant to say _Happy Birthday Papi!”_ squeaked Carla, smug that she had outdone her brother.

“Yes, yes.” Marc kissed her head.

“I’ve got lots of things to prepare so I’ll leave you with the kids.” Luca hurried out. He’d always be grateful to his sister, Giorgia, for volunteering to carry a child for himself and Marc. The twins were the result of her egg and Marc’s sperm, the nearest they would get to having their own biological children. He’d thought Marc would explode with happiness when they realised the baby would actually be twins.

*** 

After Marc had showered, he got dressed slowly with Carla helping him choose clothes for his birthday celebration. He looked out of the window, for the umpteenth time enjoying the view over the vast area of park land surrounding his home. The Marquez-Marini family lived at the villa which previously belonged to Marc’s long suffering lawyer, Carlos. His elderly mother had died so he’d decided to travel the world with his new partner, so he’d left the villa to Marc and Luca—that had been ten years ago now when both had still been racing. 

The villa was the perfect size for his family and their frequent visitors, with lots of rooms, a spa, a well-equipped gym, a swimming pool and a go kart track outside. Everything the couple remembered from when they’d stayed there at the start of their relationship. They had dug out a vegetable garden, because Marc had discovered he liked to grow food—it meant he spent time outside, used up his excess energy digging, raking and turning the earth, and could see a practical result of his labours.

Another addition was a motorbike track, as there was more than enough room for one, and they held training camps and open days for young riders, and exhibition races for their ex MotoGP friends and charity events for everyone. The events were for their own charity, which they had set up for riders with brain injuries, including memory loss, and this took up most of their time. The Marquez Marini Mind Foundation had been born after Marc recovered his memory, and realised how many people had helped him, one way or another, to get his life back. 

All his and Luca’s fans, plus fans from all types of bike racing, other sports, other charities for brain injuries, even people who hadn’t known who Marc Marquez was until his injury, had given so much money and time to the project over the years. Their generosity had astounded him, and Luca. Even Dorna had made a large donation, and with it had delivered a long and detailed statement, which said that they welcomed the diversity of their riders in any class of racing, that they did not accept prejudice and would actively fight it, and that most things—such as love and surviving accidents— were more important than who slept with whom.

The entry buzzer beeped, bringing the now-dressed Marc out of his reverie and he ran to answer it, with Carla dancing round him. Alejo was in the kitchen, ‘helping’ Luca.

“Senor Marc,” said the gatekeeper they employed for security—even though both riders were now retired, they were world famous and never knew who might come to visit. “Your parents and your brother and his family are here.”

“Oh, let them in.”

Alex, his wife, three year old daughter Isabella, and baby son, Javier, swept in after a few moments, followed by the slower moving Julia and Roser, who both had completely grey hair now. Alex had filled out a lot, he was no longer the lanky colt of a boy he was when racing, but quite a big man, towering over his parents and brother. Like Luca, he was a double MotoGP world champion—the two had fought over the championship for a few years together, swapping titles throughout the changes to hybrid bikes and totally electric ones.

Everyone embraced each other, Alex lifted Carla up, making her squeal with excitement. While Isabella ran to Marc and he sat down with her on his lap as she climbed all over him.

“Now be careful with Javier,” warned Marc as his daughter ran towards Marisa as she sat down on the sofa with the baby. “He’s only six months old, so be gentle.”

Carla peered at the baby, who cooed at her. “He looks like Papi,” she declared, looking from Javier to Marc.

Everyone laughed.

“Where’s Luca?” asked Roser, looking around as if he was lurking in a corner somewhere.

“He’s in the kitchen. He won’t let me see what we’re eating for lunch.” 

“I’ll go and see if he needs a hand.” Roser bustled off. Slower than she used to but she still bustled.

Marc felt so proud at how Luca had taught himself to cook Catalan cuisine to make him feel at home and show the children what their cultural inheritance was. In turn, Marc had learned to cook Italian dishes, and the whole Marquez-Marini family was multi-cultural as well as bilingual. In fact, they were trilingual because both Marc and Luca spoke Spanish, Italian and English.

***

The next ring at the entry buzzer signalled Vale arriving at the gatehouse.

“I’m so sorry, Giulia couldn’t come,” he explained on behalf of his wife. “She has less than a month to go and she is enormous, so she can’t fly and is too tired anyway.”

“Never mind. It’ll all be worth it.” The eleven times world champion smiled at the ten times world champion and they embraced. “Your heart will burst with joy when you become a father, and your whole life will change for the better.”

“I hope so.” Vale’s hair had become very thin now he was 54, so he had shaved it off rather than having wispy strands, and it suited him, he looked distinguished as an older man. Similar to Alex, his face and body had filled out and he didn’t look like a scarecrow anymore.

“Is that Uncle Vale?” came Luca’s voice from the kitchen.

“He probably needs help,” said Marc, pointing in that direction. “My mama is in there telling him what to do, and so is Alejo, so he’s got his hands full.”

“Okay.” Vale hurried off.

Marc smiled after him. His young, feisty wife Giulia had come along just when he thought he’d never find anyone, and now he was about to become a father at last—his dream was coming true.

The entry phone buzzed yet again, and when Marc answered it, a familiar voice said, “ola, team mate.” 

“Dani!”

“I’ve brought my womenfolk. Help me, I’m drowning in hormones, I need some male company.”

“Quickly, come in!”

Dani, his wife Yvette and their teenage girls Ana and Rafaella, or Rafi, ambled in. The girls looked bored, and Yvette harassed.

But before anyone could say anything, Carla and Isabella rushed up to the big girls and flung themselves at them.

“Now we can put make up on!” shrieked Carla.

“Make up!” echoed Isabella, and the teenagers smiled.

“Come to my room and put it on us,” instructed Carla.

“Now, be careful with the little ones,” said Yvette to her daughters. “They are very young.”

“Alright Mama, alright.” Rafi rolled her eyes and took charge—at fifteen she knew everything and certainly more than her younger sister. The four girls went off to Carla’s room, the little ones chattering constantly.

“Let’s go out on track,” said Dani eagerly to Marc. “I need to stretch my legs.”

“Oh, okay. I think there’s time before lunch.”

“Come and sit down,” said Marisa to Yvette, who gladly went to look at Javier and discuss motherhood.

***

Vale entered the kitchen to see his harassed brother and calm mother-in-law. “Roser, lovely to see you,” he said. She was sitting on a chair so he bent to embrace her. “And here’s my big nephew.” He swept Alejo up in his arms.

“Can you take him out of here?” asked the flushed Luca. He was stirring one sauce with one spoon and a second sauce with another, so his hands were completely full. “He’s just getting in the way.”

“Of course. Can I see your toys?” Vale said to the little boy. “I bet you’ve got Lego. We could build something with it, what shall we build?”

Alejo directed him towards the playroom, chattering about what they could build.

“I’m sorry I’m not much use, dear,” said Roser to Luca after they had gone. “My legs don’t hold me up as well as they used to.”

“You’re fine sitting there. As long as you don’t run up and down making helicopter noises and tripping me up.” 

“I’ll try not to.” She chuckled.

***

Dani and Marc strolled towards the track. 

“Are you sure you can still ride? Will I need to help you get onto the bike?” joked Marc.

“Cheeky rat! I’m only forty seven.” Dani nudged his friend. His hair was much greyer than Marc’s as it had started going grey when he was thirty one and Marc’s had done so only recently.

“And a world champion, don’t forget,” Marc said fondly. He was so proud that in the last year of Dani’s career, after the change to hybrid engines, Dani had flourished and beaten everyone else to win his only MotoGP title.

“And don’t you forget it,” laughed the little Spaniard.

The track staff had made the bikes ready so the ex team mates got on to their chosen machines and set off round the track. All vehicles were electric these days, so the bikes didn’t roar like they used to, but they were still fast and dangerous. The two friends spent at least half an hour fighting, barging and bashing at each other, watched by various gardeners, estate workers with some of their wives and children. Marc and Luca had a loyal staff working for them and they were like one big family.

After the session, the riders dismounted and hugged each other.

“That was just what I needed,” said Dani. “At home I’m surrounded by clothes, make up and boyfriends.”

Marc rolled his eyes. “I’ve got all that to come one day, yikes!”

“They aren’t bad daughters, though, just moody. The best thing is, they love their bikes. When they aren’t putting on makeup and chasing boys, they are riding their bikes. They prefer bicycles, but they will use our motorbikes when they feel like it.”

“Maybe they’ll be female champions one day?” Marc felt so glad he’d kept in touch with his best friend. The only man who knew what it had really been like for him in MotoGP.

“Maybe, you never know.” Dani sighed. “I miss when we were team mates.”

“But we’ll always be friends.” Marc took his arm—both ex-riders hobbled a bit these days after so many years of racing, training and picking up injuries—and they strolled through the beautiful landscaped garden towards the villa. 

“I’ll never forget that day you came up to me and recited everything I’d ever done. The day you got your memory back.” Dani squeezed his arm.

“It was quite a day. Like I’d been plugged into the mains again.” He smiled.

“You never told me what triggered it though.”

Marc shrugged. “Just—I dunno—it was time, I guess. Sometimes things just take time to work themselves out.”

“Hm.” Dani pursed his lips. No doctor had been able to work out why Marc’s memory had suddenly rebooted itself and probably none ever would, even with the huge leaps in medical knowledge which had taken place since 2017. Some things were just mysteries.

“Do you see much of Jorge these days?”

“A little. He and Nuria are in the same boat as you and Luca—very busy looking after their children. I think they are nine, seven and four, so around the age of your two. And of course, Jorge is heavily into his golf, while Nuria’s acting career is rocketing. She is more famous than him now, I think.”

“Oh yes, I saw she was starring in a movie recently.”

“She kept her maiden name for work—Jorge didn’t like that, you know how he is. But she convinced him with her feminine wiles.” Dani chuckled.

“She’s got him wrapped round her little finger, but so she should. He’d be so set in his ways without her.” They both giggled at the thought of their perfectionist ex rival.

“I’m glad we’re friends with him though, he’s always a source of amusement.”

“Who else do you see from our old racing days?”

“I see Nicky Hayden sometimes too. He and Jackie have five children now, did you know?”

“Five? They’ve been busy.” Marc grinned.

“Nicky always wanted five kids because he was one of five. And that’s what he got. Three boys and two girls.”

“How sweet. Do the children race?”

“Yes, all of them I think.”

“We kind of lost touch with Nicky and Jackie, maybe now’s the time to give them a call.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know what it’s like with little kids, life gets really hectic. Nicky has always been so nice and he’s still the same, so he’ll understand.”

“I’ll call him tomorrow. I’ll tell him I’m catching him up in age, he is fifty isn’t he now?”

“Around that, yes. He’ll be glad to hear from you.”

Marc nodded. “We better get back for lunch now.” He hurried his friend along. “Luca’s worked so hard at the cooking, and it’s going to be delicious.”

***

Four excited girls rushed to meet Dani when he returned.

“Papa! Papa!” said Rafi, her eyes shining. “Look what we did!” She pointed to the little girls. Carla was made up to look like a kitten, Isabella like a bunny. They all giggled.

“How cute, well done.” 

Ana hugged her father. “Thanks for bringing us, we’re having such a good time.”

Marc smiled to see the newly happy teenagers, then someone tapped him on the arm and he turned.

“I’ve got a proposition for you,” said Alex. “Can we go somewhere private?”

“Okay?” He ushered his brother into the study. “What is it?”

“Well, you know cousin Alba? Mama’s youngest brother’s daughter?”

“Yes of course!”

“She said, she has four children of her own, she would like to have one for you and Luca. But of course, using his sperm. Then he’d have his own biological child.”

Marc paused, a hundred thoughts going through his mind. “That would be—that would be—amazing,” he stuttered after a while. “Then he’d have his own child and I’d have mine. I’d have to see if he wants any more though, I’m not sure. The two we’ve got are a handful.”

“Well the offer’s there. Just think about it. It’s only fair he has his own and passes his own genes on. That sounds so cold and scientific, but you know what I mean.”

“I do. He should pass his gorgeous genes on.” Marc embraced his brother. “Alba is my one of my favourite cousins, too. They would have a beautiful child.”

***

Finally the meal was ready, and everyone went to sit down in the huge dining room. The long, thin room with stained glass French windows looked out over the landscaped gardens, but now the bike track, with its surrounding buildings to store the bikes and entertain visitors, were visible in the distance.

Vale made Luca sit down at the table and take a breather, while he, Roser, Julia, Alex, Yvette and Dani brought in the food and put it on the sideboard in heated dishes. The little children hovered round Marisa and Javier, who was entertaining them with his cooing noises and blowing bubbles with his mouth. Dani took his daughters aside and whispered in their ears, after which they went to make sure Luca and Marc were comfortable at the table, with wine, water, napkins, cutlery and so on.

The first course was mixed seafood canapes; cured Spanish ham with grapes, walnuts and peppers on little rolls, and tomato and cheese toast. Vale swept in with the first plate, looking like he’d been waiting at table all his life. He went to birthday boy Marc first and bowed.

“Would sir like to sample these delicacies, made by the talented chef, Signor Marini?” he joked, holding out the canapes.

“Oh, yes please, waiter,” said Marc, taking two. “These are lovely, Luca, how did you have time to make them as well as all the other stuff?”

“I’m just very efficient at time management.” He took a welcome gulp of red wine as Vale offered him the plate of food next. He’d been careful not to drink too much while cooking as he’d known it would make him forget the time. 

Marc beamed at him and secretly squeezed his knee. “I grew these tomatoes, grapes and peppers myself,” he announced. “We grew them last year and preserved them.”

“My son, the farmer!” exclaimed Julia, and all the guests laughed. “I want to say how proud your mother and I are of you, Marc. That day in Le Mans when we thought we’d lost you forever, we—”

Roser sniffed, with tears in her eyes. “Julia, please!”

“Sorry, dearest. Anyway, we’re proud of what you’ve achieved in your life, the career you’ve had and family you built, despite the opposition from certain people. Salud!” He raised his glass to his son and family.

The other guests echoed his cheers and all clinked glasses with each other.

Alex arrived next at his brother’s side, with the plates of ham rolls, cheese and tomato toast and everyone tucked in, chattering away.

“So, your wife is nearly due?” asked Roser of Vale. “What is her due date? Do you know if it is a boy or girl?”

“It’s the twentieth of next month. We do know but we aren’t telling.”

Everyone oohed and ahhed.

“How are the events going at the track?” Julia asked Luca. “They are very popular.”

“Yes, they are, we love holding them. Who knows how many young riders we’ve encouraged? We see them in Moto3 and Moto2, we’re waiting for the first one to reach MotoGP.”

Dani was chatting to Alex, Yvette to Marisa as she breastfed Javier at the table.

“Thanks for your help,” said Marisa as Yvette selected canapes and rolls for her plate. “My hands are a bit full.”

“I know the feeling, although it seems a long time since my girls were so tiny.” She glanced across at her daughters, who were looking after Carla and Isabella, while Alejo sat on Uncle Alex’s lap, eating from his plate.

“What do you think of that event in the summer, the MotoGP champions dinner?” asked Alex of Dani. “Are you going?”

“I might. I’ve only got one title, seems a bit inadequate compared to the rest of you.”

“Nonsense!” said Alex, so loudly that everyone jumped. “He should go to the champions dinner, shouldn’t he, Marc?”

“Of course! As well as being a champion, you were easily the most popular rider of our time,” agreed Dani’s proud ex-team mate. Everyone made approving noises and clinked glasses with each other.

The next course was seabass with potatoes and seasonal vegetables, and a large seafood paella, brought in by Roser and Julia.

“That paella reminds me of that food fight we had when we stayed with Carlos the first time,” said Marc to Luca.

“Food fight?” asked his mother, giving him a stern look.

“It wasn’t too bad, Roser,” said Luca quickly, not mentioning the asparagus which had fallen down Marc’s jeans, forcing him take them off just as Carlos’ elderly mother had walked in. He just winked at Marc, who winked back.

“Anyway, your paella is much better than that one.” Marc spooned some of it onto his plate. “Luca is so good at making this now, it’s better than any I could make.”

Everyone said, “aww…” and helped themselves to the paella and seabass, as Julia and Roser shuffled round the table serving them.

After the paella and seabass dishes had been enjoyed to the full, the party took a rest and chatted about whatever was on their minds. Then Dani and Yvette brought the chocolate mousse with strawberries, and roast bananas in a rum sauce.

“Not sure I’ve got room for puddings,” said Julia, leaning back and patting his stomach.

“I have,” said Marc and Luca together, and both burst out laughing.

“You’re a bottomless pit,” said Roser to Marc.

Vale topped up the glasses of those drinking wine while Dani served the mousse and Yvette the banana dish.

“You should start your own restaurant here,” said Alex, making a noise of delight as he spooned mousse into his mouth. “Luca can do the cooking and Marc clean the tables.”

“Cheeky!” shouted his brother, although he laughed as well. “I make a mean pizza these days, with every possible topping.”

“He does,” agreed Luca. “He puts on everything you can imagine.”

Everyone laughed and clinked glasses again, all feeling enjoyably tipsy and giggly.

Luca nipped out of the dining room to bring in the surprise dish: a cake decorated with the yellow and red striped flag of Catalunya with _Feliz Cumpleanos Marc_ piped onto it in white. He had also stencilled a little orange ant in the corner.

Everyone sang Happy Birthday and Marc felt tears in his eyes looking round at Luca and their children, his parents, his brother and his family, his brother in law, his best friend and his family. Everyone he loved in one room. His heart was full.

And when he cut the cake, instead of an ordinary sponge, it was made of layers of red and yellow. He gasped. “How did you make that? A layer cake is difficult.”

“Your mother gave me a lot of help.” Luca grinned at Roser.

“Happy birthday, son!” said Julia, waving his glass unsteadily. “To the next forty years!”

Marc’s family and friends clinked glasses with each other and cheered.

***

A long time later, after all the guests had gone and the children were asleep, Marc and Luca cuddled up in their bed. How many times in their lives had they cuddled up together? Too many to count, but they would never get tired of it.

“That was the best birthday ever,” whispered Marc, nuzzling his beloved’s neck. “Thank you so much, you mean the world to me.” Sometimes, he still couldn’t believe the tall, handsome blond was his lover. He’d been a striking youth but was now a drop dead gorgeous man of 35, turning heads wherever they went. And that wasn’t just because he had won two MotoGP world titles—it was because he looked like an angel in human form.

Luca held him tighter, with tears in his eyes. “You mean the world to me too, aren’t we lucky? After all we went through when you lost your memory. After all we went through after you got it back. And we’re still here, still together.”

They held each other for a few minutes, then settled down comfortably.

“Oh, how could I forget this? Alex offered us something.” Marc told him of cousin Alba’s plans, then waited for the reaction.

“She volunteered to do that? That’s amazing. I don’t know what to say.”

“You could tell me if you want more children? That’s the idea.”

“Well—y—yes. We’re so lucky we can just kind of order them, aren’t we? We don’t have to go through the pregnancy like women do.”

“That is a great way to look at it. So many people see the negative, they say ‘oh, poor guys, you can’t have our own children’, but you see it as lucky this way round.”

“I’m a very lucky guy.”

“And a very positive guy. That is why I love you and I’ve been with you for—” He counted in his head. “Sixteen years.”

“That long, eh? Well you’re stuck with me now, I can’t get my wedding ring off these days.”

“So you’ve tried, have you? Hm…”

“I don’t want to get it off, I was just making sure I couldn’t.” Luca wore his most innocent expression.

“I can’t get mine off either, just so you know.” They kissed each other, smiling as they did so.

Luca broke away to say, “we definitely deserve more children. Perhaps we’ll have twins again.”

“Now that would be nice. A family of four.”

“Yes. Let’s hope so. But of course, any number of children is fine with us, isn’t it?”

Marc nodded.

They kissed, warm and happy in their cosy bed. Night animals called outside, the wind blew softly through the whispering trees, the moon prepared for her own bedtime and the sun prepared to rise again in the morning.

THE END.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marc and Luca’s children’s full names caused a lot of arguments between them, but eventually they decided on: Carla Lucia Marquez-Marini and Alejandro Marcello Marquez-Marini (Alejo for short). They were born in 2027. So we’ve got 10 years to convince Marc and Luca they are destined to be together…
> 
> ***
> 
> I am in tears now because I’ve finished writing this story, which I’ve loved writing. But as they say:  
> ‘No tears for the writer, no tears for the reader.’  
> Thank you to everyone who has commented because without comments I wouldn’t know if anyone even liked my writing. Thank you to the silent people who just read and enjoyed my story.  
> Most of all thank you to my steadfast supporters, Lady_Marquez93 and F1_Rabbit. Your unfailing comments and support have kept me going when I felt like stopping and when I couldn’t think how to write a scene. And of course it was Lady_Marquez93 who thought up the pairing of Luca/Marc in the first place!


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